


Baby Steps

by toadmaker



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Angst, Cancer, Character Development, Childhood Trauma, Dark Past, Dead Nanami Chiaki, Eating Disorder Not Otherwise Specified, Fluff and Angst, Hopeful Ending, Illnesses, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Komaeda Nagito's Luck Cycle, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mentions of Cancer, One-Sided Attraction, Other, Past Character Death, Post-Canon, Post-Game(s), Sick Komaeda Nagito, Sickfic, Suffering Komaeda Nagito, Suicidal Thoughts, Terminal Illnesses, Trauma
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-20
Updated: 2021-01-09
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:02:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 41,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26560345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toadmaker/pseuds/toadmaker
Summary: The 77th class move on from their past lives and attempt to live with a sense of normalcy on their new Island home. Things go well for a number of years, given the time to heal from the traumatic experiences they were put through for a good portion of their lives. That is, until Nagito falls ill again.
Relationships: Hinata Hajime/Komaeda Nagito, Mitarai Ryota/Ultimate Imposter
Comments: 165
Kudos: 527





	1. Chapter 1

The pale water lapped at the shore, accompanied by the soft whisper of the waves and the gentle breeze that rolled over them and rustled through Hajime's hair. He sat on the pale sand below him, jeans cuffed and shoes kicked off beside him, enjoying the feeling of the sun and serenity that washed over the beach. To say Jabberwock Island's beaches were picturesque would be an understatement as every shoreline on the island looked like the type of thing only seen on postcards or calendars. Hajime revelled in the quiet. 

He and his classmates that survived the killing game had made a home for themselves here. They took comfort in making the island a place just for them rather than a distant memory of the bloodbath that it was during the program. 

Nowadays, he went through life as he always did. Tried as hard as possible to pick up the pieces and get back to life, not only for his own sanity but for the good of those around him. He knew his friends relied on him to bring hope, in his own way, and that he was solely in charge of leading them out of the darkness that he had created in the first place. He swore that no one would take his future from him and that he'd do anything he could to make his own path, and guided his friends to do the same. 

He found himself gazing up at the clear blue sky, eyes slightly dry and mouth hanging open stupidly. He'd been lost in thought this whole time despite his attempts to not get carried away. He sat up, rubbing his eyes and stretching, listening to his bones pop and crack into place again. 

He checked the watch on his wrist to see that it was around lunch time. He gathered his sneakers and made his way back to the main road that led to the hotel in hopes of grabbing something to eat. He took one last look at the ocean before turning away and heading off.

Arriving at the hotel, he saw that a few of his former classmates were already getting started on lunch. The ultimate cook, or as he preferred, the ultimate chef, was of course happily dishing out large platters of sandwiches of different fillings alongside many other plates full of healthy, light but filling foods such as salad, fruit, omelettes, rice, sushi and noodles. He looked overjoyed as usual, being completely in his element being able to cook for fifteen others every day. 

Three figures sat ready at the table, two eagerly digging in while the other gingerly took a sandwich and a spoonful of salad onto his plate. 

Akane, the one furthest from Hajime, ate with as much vigour as a feral dog that hadn't seen food in weeks. She ate while she spoke, smattering crumbs everywhere, "I've been waiting' for this for so long, I'm starving!"

"What do you mean? It's only twelve pm, we had breakfast three hours ago!" Teruteru looked bemused as Akane piled more food onto her plate. 

"I know, I thought I was dying!" she yelled as she scoffed several ham sandwiches at once. Ryota, the figure next to her ate a few bites of his own sandwich and looked sheepishly at Akane, who at one point almost elbowed him in the face as she enthusiastically took a chicken wing from the plates in the middle. 

A larger figure, known as Imposter, smiled at him from across the table. They had their own pile of food that they were digging into with haste yet nowhere near as ravenously as Akane. "Save some for everyone else would you?" they cocked an eyebrow at the girl. "Barely anyone has arrived yet."

That prompted Teruteru to look towards the entrance directly at Hinata, "Ah, Hajime, why don't you sit yourself down and help yourself to some of my treats," he said with a wink as Hajime felt his skin crawl a little. Being around Teruteru never got easier. 

He made his way over to the table and sat down next to Imposter, regarding everyone politely as he began by taking a couple of rice balls. He looked at Ryota who sat across from him, noting the small details about his appearance in a half daydream. He wasn't with them when they were in the program. In fact, he heard from his classmates that he never showed up to school in the first place, and Imposter had shown up in his place. He remembered the small, mousy, tired man that they'd encountered attempting to spread his hope video to the masses, the way he broke down fully when they'd invited him to come along with them to their island to start a new life. 

That version of him looked like a greyed out, inaccurate depiction of how he looked now in Hajime's mind. He filled out his clothes a little more, there was more colour in his cheeks, the dark circles under his eyes were lighter and his hair was less greasy and brittle. He knew he still struggled with his eating habits from time to time, and it hadn't been easy for him at all to get better but with the help of Imposter and the rest of their class he seemed a lot more alive nowadays. Hajime felt a slight warmth in his chest as it reminded him of how far they'd come since then.

Slowly, more and more people filtered into the restaurant. Sonia greeted them, apologising for being 'so dreadfully late' as she always did whenever she was on time, followed by Nekomaru, Mahiru and Peko. The early birds, as he noted. 

A pleasant chatter filled the room as they all ate, leaving Hajime to drown them all out as he got lost in thought for the third time that day. He jolted back to reality when he received a harsh smack on the back by the person next to him. He looked over to see Kazuichi next to him, sipping a neon green can of some sugary soda. 

"What's wrong man, away with the fairies today aren't you?" he grinned his signature shark-toothed grin, "come on, spill, who are you thinking about?"

Even after years of knowing each other, Kazuichi hadn't changed much, he still had the mindset of a teenage boy at heart. He'd definitely changed physically, his muscles were more defined, his hair longer and faded compared to the hot pink it used to be with black roots peeking through, along with a peppering of black stubble covering his chin. Despite this he was still the same old dumbass Kazuichi, the same carefree idiot he'd been in the simulation.

"I wasn't thinking of anyone, I'm not desperate like you," Hajime replied, sipping his orange juice in which the ice cubes had mostly melted. 

He was about to go back to his food when he noticed a hamster nibbling at a leaf of lettuce in the salad bowl. 

"Gyahh! Someone tell that weirdo to get his damn rats off the table!" Kazuichi yelped as he swatted it away. The hamster squeaked angrily and scampered across the table to crawl up the arm of another classmate. It retreated into his scarf as the classmate regarded Kazuichi sternly.

"Fool! You dare insult my four dark devas of destruction with your fiendish words!" Gundham yelled a little too over dramatically from across the dinner table. 

"Blow me," Kazuichi retorted half heartedly.

Out of all of his classmates, those two were a couple of the hardest to get used to. Hajime soon spotted that one seat was empty at the table, the one closest to the window. He looked around at the people at the table and quickly realised that the one missing was Nagito. 

"Has anyone seen Nagito?" Hajime asked the ones closest to him.

"Hah! I knew you were thinking about someone!" Kazuichi said, accusatory. 

Hajime rolled his eyes, "I just noticed that he's not here, that's all."

"It is not that uncommon for Nagito to not show up for lunch, I believe he has a habit of avoiding us when we are all together as a group." Sonia replied.

She was right, sometimes Nagito skipped meals if he didn't want to be around everyone. Hajime was aware of his hatred of crowds and noise, but he’d love it if he at least took the time to go and eat when people left.

After the convention fizzled out, people slowly started to leave and therefore Hajime thought it might be a good idea to seek Nagito out. He wasn't concerned about him, he knew that he was nowhere near as dangerous and reckless as he once was but he still felt that it was worth checking on him in case he'd got himself into some minor trouble as he often did. 

He descended the steps of the hotel, running a hand across the arcade machine that sat in the lobby fondly. He always made a point of doing this whenever he walked by. A small amount of dust had collected on top of the machine, and he rubbed it away gently.

He spared a few more seconds in the lobby before heading out the door into the bright sun. He rounded the pool, noticing Akane already swimming laps rigorously as Nekomaru urged her on from the side with a stopwatch in hand. Hajime felt queasy even imagining swimming so soon after eating. 

He walked onto the decking where their cottages were, and found his way to Nagito's front door. He knocked once and received no answer. He waited a few beats and then knocked again, but still received no reply. He might not be in, Hajime thought. He was about to turn and look somewhere else before he heard the door unlatch and the doorknob begin to turn. 

Hajime looked up to see Nagito, even more haggard than usual, eyes bleary and tired above heavy eye bags. He looked as if he'd dressed himself in a hurry, and his hair was even more tousled and unkempt than it normally was.

He straightened up a little after seeing Hajime, pulling his jeans up and smoothing his shirt out as he greeted him, "oh, hello Hajime, what are you doing here?"

Hajime smiled, albeit a little awkwardly, "I just came to check on you since you weren't at breakfast or lunch," he couldn't help but look behind Nagito into his cottage, seeing that the blinds were drawn and it was completely dark in there and the bed was unmade.

"It seems I just overslept a little, it's not too surprising that someone as useless as me would sleep all the way through lunch," Nagito chuckled, but there was no humour in what he said.

Hajime furrowed his brow a little, feeling a little skeptical but accepted it nonetheless, "well, if you wanted something to eat, Teruteru put you aside some leftovers so that Akane wouldn't get to them."

Nagito smiled, that small, slightly sad smile he did whenever he showed gratitude, "wow, I'll have to give him my thanks for showing such kindness to trash like myself."

Hajime grimaced. As much as he'd come to care for Nagito, he still couldn't bear to be around him when he was like this. Nothing he said seemed to convince the other man that he was actually worthy of basic respect and kindness, since he'd known him he'd been stuck in the mindset that he was somehow less than human. 

"Did you want to head over to the restaurant together? I don't have anything planned today," Hajime offered. Despite the fact that he just came from the hotel, he wouldn't mind going back if it meant he could spend time with Nagito for a while.

Nagito looked to be genuinely excited for a moment, "you're going to spend time with me? However can I thank you-" he began to ramble before Hajime stopped him.

"It's fine, let's just go," he waited patiently while Nagito locked up before turning around to walk side by side with Hajime to the hotel. 

They ate together, well, Hajime sat while Nagito ate, enjoying another orange juice this time with ice cubes fully intact and not making the juice too watery, god damn it. 

Hajime noticed early into their friendship that Nagito ate like a bird. He could survive on basically nothing for days and be fine, proven by the time he basically ate nothing but a piece of unbuttered toast for three days when he was tied up in the spare building. Hajime cringed at the memory.

Nagito seemed happy, albeit a little more tired than usual, enjoying his leftover sandwiches and talking about something random while Hajime enjoyed the simplicity of it all.

Nagito was the first person he'd met when they were in the simulation, and he was the first person he'd considered calling a friend- that was before it all went wrong, of course. 

He enjoyed being around Nagito at first, he was laid back and pretty funny and Hajime felt a lot more grounded by being around him, so of course he didn't expect him to be behind the murder that kicked off the killing game. 

The feeling of despair it brought to have someone he thought to be an ally betray him only gave way to further confusion and hurt feelings later down the line when Nagito went completely off the rails. Hajime had tried to understand, he really had, but he just didn't feel safe around the other man anymore. 

Nagito was fully aware of the fact that the others would not be so quick to trust him, and likely never would, but Hajime wanted to get close to him and maybe understand. 

He'd been the one to help Nagito after they came out of the Neo World Program. He helped wake him up, rehabilitate him and was even the one that made his prosthetic arm. They'd grown to have a pretty normal relationship over the years. As normal as things could be with Nagito, perhaps, but still, Hajime liked it, it really helped to make things feel like the past was in the past.

Hajime thought about all of this as he studied Nagito, watching the way he ate and talked. The way he brought his metal hand up to his mouth to politely cover it while he chewed, the way he skirted around looking Hajime in the eye except for a few split seconds every now and then, the way he scratched the back of his neck and hands quite often. 

After they were done, Nagito looked a little sad, in a small, distant way that made it seem like he was trying his best not to show it, "so, what were you gonna do for the rest of the day?" he asked.

Hajime thought about saying he was gonna slink off to go do something else, but realised he didn't really feel like doing anything on his own, "I don't know, do you wanna go do something?" 

Nagito looked a little shocked, "you really don't have to waste your time with me Hajime," It seemed that no matter how many times they hung out together, Nagito never seemed to understand that Hajime genuinely liked hanging out with him. 

"Where do you wanna go?" Hajime asked, ignoring Nagito's usual self deprecation. 

Nagito chuckled, "I'll go just about anywhere if it means I get to spend time with you," Hajime blushed hearing this. Nagito had never been the type to be embarrassed about things like verbal affection, and despite knowing that it was completely platonic Hajime felt a little weird hearing another guy just say something like that to him so casually. 

Hajime cleared his throat, "well, um, do you wanna head over to the library?" The library was their usual hangout spot on their slow days together, and he didn't mind because he knew that Nagito liked to read and was pretty in his element around all the dusty old books.

"Of course!" Nagito looked happy as they walked out of the hotel together. It felt nice seeing him like that. He knew Nagito hadn't had the easiest life and had struggled a great deal, and still wasn't completely out of the woods. This meant that when he actually did see Nagito show some kind of genuine happiness, it filled him with the feeling that everything was okay. 

The afternoon sun cascaded over his face, lighting up his features and accentuating small details that Hajime often looked over. He had small dimples in his cheeks when he smiled, and a very light dusting of freckles on the bridge of his nose and cheeks, and a little gap between his front teeth. 

His hair had grown longer over the years, and it now reached just past his shoulders. It probably hadn't been brushed that day, and was pretty thin and wispy on the best of days but Hajime thought there was something charming about it.

He was also a lot thinner. It sometimes worried Hajime, as in the simulation he couldn't recall Nagito being as thin as he was now, but when they came out of the simulation the class were left with the damage done to their bodies while they were remnants of despair, and Nagito never seemed to gain back the weight he'd lost. 

Soon, they arrived at the Library. Hajime had to wait for Ngaito a couple of times as he found himself short of breath on the walk there. Nagito had apologised profusely for his 'pathetic stamina', but Hajime really didn't mind. They made their way in to see that it was empty as per usual. 

They passed the time chatting and reading and generally enjoyed each other's company.

"It's hot in here," Nagito commented after about half an hour.

Hajime looked bemused, "that's weird for you isn't it, you're usually the cold one."

Nagito reached around to pull his hoodie off and slung it over the back of the chair he was sat on, "I guess you're right, I'm always complaining about something, aren't I?," Nagito said as he ran a hand through his hair. Hajime got a look at Nagito's arms for the first time in a while. They were paper white, thin, and absolutely covered in bruises. Purple, black and blue patches covered his arms from where his shirt sleeve ended down to his right wrist and left prosthetic, a couple even on the back of his hand that Hajime hadn't noticed previously.

"What happened?" Hajime stared in shock, he'd never seen one person sustain as much bruising as he was witnessing right now. 

Nagito looked a little sheepish, moving his arms under the table, "I'm so clumsy, I'm always getting myself hurt. It's fine, you don't have to worry, I've always bruised easily."

Hajime felt more than a little concerned after seeing the state of Nagito's arms. He gestured gently for Nagito to bring his arms up onto the table, and he did cautiously before Hajime took one of his hands on his own. He turned his arm over carefully, inspecting all of the bruises and growing more concerned by the minute. "Nagito, are you..." he swallowed a lump that had at some point formed in his throat, "are you feeling okay?"

He didn't want to start thinking down that road, obviously he didn't, but he felt Izuru stir deep down inside him, telling him something was definitely wrong. All the dots in his mind started clicking together. He'd overslept, and seen so worn out and out of breath, as well as being hot, bruising easily, not gaining any weight back, it made Hajime's head spin with a sudden worry. He hoped he was just overthinking.

Nagito considered the question before replying, "not much worse than usual, why?" 

Hajime's thoughts buzzed around in his head for a while. Sure, before the surgery he'd been a talentless nobody, but now he had all of the knowledge and talent of Izuru Kamukura under his belt. Something about this was ringing alarm bells in his head. 

"Is it just your arms?" he asked, looking Nagito in the eye.

Nagito responded quietly, "well, I've noticed them on my legs, and some on my back and chest. But like I said, it's no use worrying about someone like me. My body has always been weak, and I'm so clumsy, I'm bound to be covered in bruises. I'm sorry you had to see something so unsightly," he trailed off. 

Hajime furrowed his brow, "would you show me?"

Nagito looked a bit puzzled, "geez Hajime, if you wanted to see me naked you could've just asked," he chuckled in a carefree way that made Hajime more and more frustrated. Nagito loved to try and deflect like this, often making things awkward or changing the subject in order to avoid talking about something that made him uncomfortable. 

"Nagito, please, I'm a little worried right now," Nagito's face was unreadable. He looked a little confused but also frustrated as he gave in. He took his time as he pulled his shirt up to reveal a pretty sizable bruise on his stomach, and Hajime also got a glimpse of the ribs and hipbones that jutted out beneath his skin as well. Hajime moved to inspect his back, and there it was even worse, he was smattered with them, of all sizes, purple, blue, yellow, brown; this wasn't normal.

"God, Nagito-" Hajime gasped, feeling awful with himself. How had he not noticed? All of his stupid, unnecessary artificial talent and he couldn't even spot the telltale signs that something was seriously wrong with one of his best friends. 

Nagito let his shirt fall back down, making him look a great deal bigger again as Hajime looked at him with worry. "You have been taking care of yourself, right? I mean, all of that stuff you told me back then, your condition-"

"Why does it matter?" Nagito cut him off, "If my luck is bad enough to let me die of a petty sickness then I'm not even worthy of being called the ultimate lucky student."

Nagito's face was hard when he said this, like it was something he truly believed. Hajime reeled slightly, he wasn't ready to hear the words, 'die' and 'sickness' come so sharply. He'd told Hajime a long time ago about his condition, and played it off as a lie. Hajime just pushed it to the back of his mind. How stupid. Hajime wanted to slap himself. 

"Nagito, why didn't you tell me it was this bad, you know you can't just rely on your talent to keep you alive," Hajime felt seriously worried now, he knew Nagito wouldn't dream of asking for help with anything, let alone something like this, meaning this had to have been going on for a while now. 

Nagito went to put his jacket back on, "why not?" 

Hajime felt dumbfounded and didn't even know what to say, "because you need a doctor, someone who can help you." 

Nagito scoffed a little, "I wouldn't want to waste their time, besides, I doubt they'd be able to do anything for me anyway, The only thing that kept me alive past my life expectancy was luck, remember?" The way Nagito said the last part so casually as if it was nothing sent a jolt through Hajime. Nagito's life expectancy. The words felt sick and wrong as they swam through his thoughts.

Hajime felt a pit in his stomach grow and deepen as he looked Nagito in the face, "I think we should go and see Mikan."

Nagito grit his teeth and looked a little annoyed, "don't bother her, I'll be fine, Hajime, seriously."

Hajime walked closer to Nagito and put a hand on Nagito's arm, causing him to flinch ever so slightly before settling down. "I want you to be okay, Nagito, it's okay to rely on others for help." Hajime looked at him, expression stern and serious. Nagito shrunk a little under the gaze. 

After a long moment of silence, Nagito's voice returned, albeit quiet and raspy, "okay."

Mikan was a lot different nowadays. Hajime thought about this as he watched her, going about her business. Her hair was shorter, just past shoulder length and it as well as her bangs had grown out evenly. Her face was a lot less pallid and she had a bit more grace and professionalism about her. 

After explaining Nagito's condition to Mikan, she looked horrified and immediately dragged them both over to the hospital so that she could give Nagito a proper exam. She muttered the whole way, mostly repeating the words, "you really shouldn't have kept this to yourself."

Once at the hospital Nagito looked like he'd ran a marathon and Mikan wasted no time getting prepared. She buzzed around the hospital like it was second nature and began asking questions along the way. How long ago was your diagnosis? Have you found any strange lumps or bumps? Do you have night sweats? Pain? Fatigue? Appetite loss? Weight loss? A cough? 

Nagito looked a little overwhelmed and Hajime looked at him reassuringly from across the room. He stood out of Mikan's way unless she asked him for assistance, and Nagito sat on the bed in the corner of the room. The hospital on the island was a lot less barebones than the one in the simulation. There was way more room, and lots more equipment and resources at their disposal. 

Mikan saw the look on Nagito's face and gasped, "I-I'm sorry, I was being too forceful ," she blushed and looked disgusted with herself. She sat down on the chair next to the bed Nagito was on. Mikan's words trembled as she spoke, a habit she'd slowly lost over the years but came back whenever she was stressed. 

"I know this is really difficult, It m-must be really scary and I really would l-like to help you," Mikan calmed her tone.

Nagito sighed, "I'm not scared about it. I've been like this for most of my life now." he looked at his lap as he spoke, "the thing that bothers me is how much trouble I'm causing right now."

Mikan looked a bit taken aback. Hajime sighed sadly. 

"This is my fault, it's my own stupid luck that got me sick in the first place, you guys shouldn't burden yourself with someone like me."

Mikan gingerly took Nagito's hand and looked at him, "Nagito, please, may I t-tell you something?"

Nagito skirted around meeting her eyes, but appeared to be listening. He also seemed to appreciate the contact, however small.

"P-please don't think I' t-trying to p-p-patronise you," she exhaled deeply, "but, I know how you feel. My whole life I-I've had horrible self esteem. I never had any confidence in myself, I truly believed that I w-was worth n-nothing," Mikan was right. When Hajime knew her in the simulation, she'd start crying if anyone even looked at her funny. People walked all over her, and if anyone was going to begin to understand where Nagito was coming from it was her.

"It might sound a little stupid, but I used to feel that way too," Hajime nodded reassuringly, "before I joined Hope's Peak, and even while I was there in the reserve course, I thought my lack of talent made me completely worthless." Nagito inhaled sharply and winced ever so slightly when he said that, remembering the times he'd teased Hajime over his lack of talent. 

"But both of us, we realised that we are worthy, and we got better. It was only because of a certain someone that I was able to start believing in myself. You have to try as well." 

Nagito looked unconvinced, "I don't think this is a matter of poor self esteem. I think it's a fact that no matter what, someone who is born useless will always be useless. It's just the way it is. I'm hopeless, arrogant and selfish as it is, so any attempt at making myself feel better about that would just be ridiculous," Nagito pushed his head into his hands, smoothing his hair back before letting them rest in the tangled mess. "You guys are full of hope, of course you can achieve amazing things. Someone like me can only watch from the side lines"

Hajime sighed for what felt like the hundredth time that day, whatever issues Nagito had were deep rooted and couldn't be solved with just a pep talk, but still it hurt not being able to get through to him even a little. 

"W-will you at least let me r-run a few tests, please?" Mikan tried, "I p-promise you, it wouldn't be any trouble at all, and it would be a g-good idea to see what we're up against."

Nagito looked reluctant, but his tense figure then relaxed. "Fine, but I just don't understand why two ultimates would go through the effort for a pathetic lowlife like me." 

Hajime smiled sympathetically, "we're your friends, Nagito, you can't keep treating us like we're gods or something just because we're ultimates."

Nagito didn't reply to that. Hajime suspected he'd probably tired himself out.

Mikan spoke up again "I'd like to do r-run tests to see where we are, and what t-treatment might look like."

Nagito looked a little sick. 

"Have you ever undergone an-any treatment?" Mikan asked, seeing his expression. Nagito shook his head.

Mikan cleared her throat, "it's okay, e-everything will be okay," she smiled, "it's going to be tough, b-but it will help you."

Hajime rested his hand on Nagito's shoulder, feeling that he'd gone completely rigid. He said he wasn't scared of the illness, so Hajime suspected that it was perhaps the treatment that Nagito dreaded.

"Hey," he said softly as Nagito put his hand over Hajime's where it rested, "you're gonna be okay."

Nagito sighed quietly, nodding but not looking completely convinced.

"I-I'd like to start with a simple blood test for today, t-then maybe we could think about the rest t-t-tomorrow," Mikan looked bashful suddenly, "u-unless you don't want to, you don't have to."

Hajime smiled appreciatively, "that sounds good, but really it's up to Nagito to decide," Hajime looked over to Nagito.

Nagito spoke quietly still, "I guess we should get it done so you guys can focus on more important things." 

Mikan smiled at his this, "everything is g-going to be fine, Nagito."

Nagito nodded, his face still flat and unreadable, "sure."

Mikan went about taking Nagito's blood, securing a tight band around the top of his arm and taking the sample. Nagito didn't so much as flinch when the needle entered, watching the whole time as the blood filled the container. 

Mikan taped a little cotton ball over where the needle entered, "y-you're welcome to go home and rest if you'd like, w-we can think about this more tomorrow when y-you're both r-rested."

With that, Hajime and Nagito left the hospital, leaving Mikan to analyze the results. Hajime made it clear to her before leaving that she could call him for help with anything at all, and Mikan squeaked out her thanks.

Hajime walked Nagito back to his cottage as the golden rays of 8:00pm sun engulfed the island. Hajime took a long look at Nagito once they reached the cabins after a long walk in silence. The sun caught on his thin, sharp features and cast a brilliant halo on Nagito's hair. 

Hajime offered a reassuring smile to Nagito, who looked totally beaten down. It was nice being able to at least tell what Nagito was feeling just by looking, but it didn't prevent the cold ache it left in his heart to see his dejected face. 

"Hey," Hajime put a reassuring hand on Nagito's arm. He realised quickly he wasn't sure what to say. Nagito never seemed reassured by words alone, and Hajime racked his brains for a way to make him feel a bit better. 

"Do you wanna come back to my cottage and talk about it?"

Nagito seemed to start, looking at Hajime before immediately averting his gaze to the ground again.

"Don't worry about wasting your time trying to help me, I'll probably-"

"Don't." Hajime looked dead serious. "Come on, you're fine. I won't force you if you don't want to though."

Nagito nodded ever so slightly, and if it weren't for Hajime staring at his face with intensity he would've missed it. Hajime smiled, only a little more assurance was needed for Nagito to follow him willingly.

“I mean, if you really want to be in the presence as a disgusting toad like me, then I won't object.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is my first fic on here and i try my best to research as much as i possibly can about the different effects and treatments of the illnesses nagito is afflicted with, so i apologise if my writing comes off as inexperienced or clumsily worded, i am not a medical/mental health expert and the majority of information i have is first hand experience or online research haha. please let me know however if anything i write is distasteful or inaccurate, i am still learning and it is not my intention to cause any harm ><


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hajime and nagito have a talk...  
> this chapter is shorter than the first so for that i apologise but i hope to be back on track for the next one :3

Hajime sighed lightly through his nose and unlocked the door to his cabin, nodding. He opened the door and gestured for Nagito to enter before him. Nagito stepped in gingerly, despite having been inside Hajime’s cottage hundreds of times he never seemed to get used to it. 

Hajime sat down on his bed, kicking off his sneakers lazily and pulling his legs up to be crossed comfortably. Nagito hovered nervously in the middle of the room. Hajime nodded towards his bed, smoothing out a spot for Nagito to sit next to him.

Nagito carefully took his shoes off and put them neatly by the door before sitting on the edge of Hajime’s bed, hands politely folded in his lap. 

“Okay. Aside from the obvious, what’s eating you, Nagito? Will you tell me specifically what you’re worrying about?”

Nagito stared at his lap for a while. Hajime breathed quietly beside him as he thought. “No pressure of course, I just don't want you to have to go through this alone, so I’d like it if you let me know what you're thinking.”

Nagito, despite looking like he was on the brink of tears, laughed dryly. At first, Hajime was extremely startled by Nagito’s habit of laughing in the face of stressful situations, and it often got Nagito his fair share of dirty looks. Over time, he got used to the fact that Nagito was just nervous laugher.

“I guess it’s all my fault, huh?” 

Hajime looked on, concerned, waiting for Nagito to continue. 

“I got too comfortable, living like this. I let my selfishness take over and I got too used to things being normal. Of course something like this would happen, and now it's just going to cause problems for everyone else.” Nagito shook his head, still chuckling a little. “Someone like me will never have a normal life, and I’m nothing but selfish and ignorant for letting myself pretend that I do.”

“Nagito, what the hell are you talking about?”

Nagito sighed. “It’s nothing. Just the ramblings of a stupid, worthless, insignificant person whose existence is nothing but and inconvenience to others.”

“Stop it! You’re not any of those things! Please, Nagito, you have to understand that you deserve to be cared about, so stop making it hard for me, okay? Will you please tell me what you're talking about?”

Nagito sighed and made a quiet, displeased noise, “my luck, Hajime.”

Cold realisation crept up Hajime’s spine as Nagito continued, “I let my guard down being around you, you know. I’d never met someone who’s luck counteracted my own before. I thought finally I had a chance of being free from this stupid cycle, but of course my ignorance came to bite me in the ass after all.” 

“How is that even possible?” 

Nagito smiles sadly, “beats me, but that's how it is when it comes to the life of someone as pathetic as me.”

Hajime shoved any doubtful thoughts out of his mind at that moment. He couldn’t prevent the building anxiety in his gut, but he sure as hell could put on a stone-face for Nagito in an attempt at just a small amount of reassurance. 

“Nagito, please look at me,” Hajime met Nagito’s eyes for a brief moment before Nagito shifted it to look directly at Hajime’s tie, “look at my face.”

Nagito looked up at Hajime apprehensively, looking almost exactly like a cornered rabbit, sans the ears. 

“I know you’re thinking that you’re gonna do this alone, am I right?” 

Nagito shifted, “I wouldn’t expect you to aid me in any way, It’s not like it’s your problem, after all.”

Hajime chuckled lightly, despite the fact that Nagito hadn’t said anything funny, “of course I’m gonna help you, Nagito, that’s what friends are for.”

Nagito jolted, sitting bolt upright, “...friends?”

“Well, that’s what we are isn’t it? Unless you don’t wanna be called that.”

Nagito hugged himself awkwardly, scratching at his arms a little, “I just didn’t expect someone like you to consider a slug like me worthy of the title of ‘friend’,” Nagito breathed heavily, “really, I’m more like a leech, or a parasyte, or even just a cockroach not even worthy of being stepped on by an ultimate such as yourself.”

Hajime’s face fell into a serious glower, “Nagito, Stop.”

Nagito rubbed at his arms still, holding himself was one of his many self-soothing tactics.  
He didn’t even look at Hajime this time.

“If you’re going to get through all of this crap, you’ve got to have a little bit of belief in yourself. Yes, we’re friends, because I appreciate you and definitely don’t think of you as a cockroach or anything like that.” Hajime tried to look reassuring, but came off slightly disgusted when he reached out to put a hand on Nagito's upper arm. Nagito stiffened at the touch, as he always did, completely unused to having someone willingly make contact with him. Nagito laughed. Hajime held onto his quickly faltering half-smile. 

Nagito continued to laugh, a dry, sickening sound that wracked his whole frame as it shook through him. 

“Nagito…?” His eyes were blank. 

“Hey, Nagito, can you hear me?” Hajime looked extremely concerned. Nagito lowered his head and sucked in a breath, “Thank you Hajime, for allowing such a worthless pile of dirt like myself to feel even a fraction of your hope,” he wheezed.

Hajime tightened his grip on Nagito’s arm, “Hey, Nagito, don’t say stuff like that-”

Nagito looked directly at Hajime as Hajime spoke, “I don’t think you’re dirt, or trash, or worthless or subhuman or anything you call yourself, so please stop it,” Hajime fixed him with a hard look.

Nagito came down, slowly but surely and spoke quietly, “there’s no point trying to argue with it, I’m just stating facts.”

Hajime sighed, allowing his arm to drop to his side. “Listen, Nagito, it’s hard to hear you talk about yourself like that, it makes me feel useless for believing in you, and surely you don’t think I am, do you?”

Nagito thought for a while, “of course not, I just,” his arms relaxed a little, “I can’t understand.”

Hajime tilted his head, “what can’t you understand?”

“Why you’d believe in someone like me.”

Hajime’s face softened, “because I think- no, I know you can do it. Everything will be okay, we just need to take everything baby steps at a time. That’s what Chiaki would say, right?”

Nagito considered this, and his face softened greatly at the mention of his old friend. He slowly began to nod, eyelids drooping as he did so. He looked as if he was about to say something, before quickly closing his mouth and continuing to nod softly.

“You must be pretty tired after today, I know I am.” Hajime yawned and stretched as Nagito stood up from his bed. His legs shook a little as he stood, but he was able to make it to the door just fine. 

“I guess I’ll get out of your hair for tonight.”

Hajime nodded from his spot on the bed. “Sure thing, just knock if you need me for anything. I’ll see you in the morning to figure out what you want to do next, okay?”

Nagito muttered a quiet ‘yes’ before turning to the door. “Thank you, Hajime.”

His words were thick as he said them, heavy as if he was holding back a sob in his throat. He coughed lightly into his arm before following up with a more steady sounding, “goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Nagito.”

Hajime settled down for bed shortly after, once he’d taken his nightly shower. He lay in bed, moonlight seeping through the gap in the curtains and casting a milky blue streak across his bed. He thought about the events of that day, about Nagito and how he’d been and the sight of all of the bruises. 

It all muddled together when he closed his eyelids, exhaustion from worrying seeping into his muscles and eventually pulling him into a restless sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the next chapter is when theyre gonna go get a check up with mikan :3


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> nagito gets his check up and he and hajime have a brief talk about the past.

Hajime woke up bright and early the next day, his whole form aching with exhaustion due to the crappy quality of his night’s sleep. He got up, pulled his undergarments, jeans and shirt on before fixing his tie neatly around his neck as he did everyday. 

He washed his face briefly in the mirror after using the bathroom, psyching himself up for the day. Deciding to waste no more time waiting around, he strode over to the door of his cottage and headed towards Nagito’s front door. 

He knocked a few times, the sound cracking sharply against the hard wooden door, and before he knew it a faint shuffling noise could be heard approaching the door, followed by the sound of the lock turning. Nagito opened the door ever so slightly, allowing Hajime to see into the room behind him, somehow darker and messier than the day before. Hajime eyed Nagito up unintentionally, noting that he answered the door in his shirt and boxers, leading Hajime to believe that his knocking was the thing to awaken him. 

“Morning Nagito,” Hajime l smiled awkwardly. Nagito rubbed his eyes wearily.

“Oh, good morning Hajime, I’m sorry I greeted you in such an unsightly state,” he sounded groggy as he looked down at his bare feet and then back up at Hajime. 

“It’s fine, want me to give you a few minutes to get ready?” 

Nagito accepted, and quickly shut the door to get dressed. When he opened the door again, his jeans, jacket and shoes were on and he had his shoulder length hair in a ponytail. 

“Are you ready? I’m pretty sure Mikan will already be over there getting set up.”

Nagito nodded half-heartedly, “I guess I’m as ready as I can be.”

Hajime blinked at Nagito understandingly, heading towards the hospital at a moderate pace, enjoying the quiet, dewey morning where a light haze fell over the island. It was refreshing, the foggy, mild mornings that usually gave way to hot, tropical days and humid evenings. 

Neither of them made much effort towards starting up and holding a conversation on the trek between the islands. Hajime didn't mind, he knew that Nagito was probably experiencing great amounts of pressure right then; he could put aside his building anxiety for the sake of Nagito's comfort.

They soon arrived at the hospital, and Hajime pushed open the heavy glass door and held it open for Nagito, who made some kind of grateful expression at the gesture.

Their shoes were noisy on the stark, white tiles of the hallways as they made their way to the room they'd visited yesterday. Upon entry, they were immediately greeted by the sight of Mikan, smoothing down the hospital bed in the corner of the room.   
Hajime was about to greet her, when she turned around and looked startled at the sight of them. 

She jumped, suppressing a squeak as she held her chest. "Oh, good morning!"

Hajime smiled sheepishly, not meaning to have startled her, "morning Mikan, sleep well?"

Mikan clasped her hands in front of her chest, "I was up all night tossing and turning thinking about you, Nagito!"

Nagito looked up at the fluorescent lights, expression guilty, "is that so?"

Hajime cleared his throat, "we should probably get to discussing what our plan of action is."

Mikan piped up again, "oh! Have you thought about what you would like to do, Nagito?"

Nagito considered the question for a seconds, sighing after his momentary dwelling, "I'd really love to say that I want to be out of your hair completely, but after talking to Hajime last night," he looked a little hesitant, as if he realised they were both studying his face intensely, "I want to at least try and tough it out. I think I owe it to Hajime for having the patience for me."

Mikan smiled gratefully, relieved he was willing to accept her help. 

Hajime's chest decompressed as he released a breath he didn't realise that he was holding. He felt grateful that Nagito appeared to have even a sliver of determination.   
Nagito kicked at nothing in particular, the toe of his boot squeaking on the tile, "what are you going to have me do?" He chuckled lightly, obviously intending his question to be half-joke, half serious.

Mikan cleared her throat into a balled fist. "Your blood test results came through in a couple of hours, and I stayed behind to analyse them. By then it was late, and I didn't want to cause the trouble of waking you."

Hajime perked up at this, "what were the results?" His question unintentionally cut off Nagito, who sounded as if he was about to go off on a self-deprecating tirade about how much trouble he was causing after hearing that Mikan stayed up late just for him. 

Mikan looked between them shyly, "w-well, um," she looked at Nagito specifically, "your complete blood count showed that you have a high white blood cell count, which doesn't necessarily confirm your condition a-as it can be caused by other factors." 

Nagtio nodded, waiting for her continuation, "to confirm your diagnosis, I w-will have to give you a medical exam, a-and perhaps perform a biopsy on the affected area. Y-you did say that it was lymphoma that you were diagnosed with before, right?" 

Nagito nodded, "yes, that's right, I believe it was Hodgekin's Lymphoma specifically, if that's helpful."

Mikan's eyes widened, "y-yes, I was about to ask about the specific diagnosis next," she scanned the tiles below her as if thinking, "in that case, I'll have to do a quick exam of your cervical, axillary and inguinal lymph nodes."

Nagito stood quietly, confusion etched ever so slightly on his features.

"U-um, I mean your neck, armpits and g-groin."

"I see," Nagito smiled politely despite his obvious tension at the idea of being examined. 

"I'll also be checking for swelling in your abdomen, have y-you noticed an uncomfortable feeling around there?"

Nagito chuckled breezily, "I thought I'd been overeating."

Hajime smirked and rolled his eyes, "because we all know that's a likely story."

Nagito laughed as Mikan guided him to sit on the hospital bed that was prepped neatly beforehand. 

“U-um, it would help if you removed your clothes for this exam, I’ll leave the room so that you can prepare. I need to go and find some latex gloves quickly, I’ll be back.” Mikan swiftly turned and left the room before Hajime could offer to go and find the equipment on her behalf.

Hajime smiled at Nagito, who looked like a lost little kid on the uncomfortable looking bed, “you don’t need to be nervous, Nagito. Mikan’s a medical professional, she’s trained to do this type of thing.” 

Nagito’s face looked a little heated, “I know that. I guess it’s just a little embarrassing to have a girl examine me.”

Hajime laughed, which appeared to put Nagito at ease slightly, as he shucked off his jacket and folded it to put it on a nearby chair. “I don't think you have room to be picky about who’s helping you this time.”

Nagito looked at him quizzically, “what do you mean?”

Hajime paused his cluckling, “don’t you remember? That time I had to feed you. Mahiru got fed up with your pickiness and left me with the duty of feeding you your toast.”

Nagito took this in and stared at the floor intensely before chuckling, “that must’ve slipped my mind.”

Nagito sunk down a bit, peeling his oversized shirt over his head, revealing the mosaic of bruising on his pallid chest and arms. “I really was a pain back then, huh?” 

Hajime hummed, “a pain was a bit of an understatement, you set the hotel lobby on fire,” Hajime laughed a little, trying to keep the mood light.

Nagito looked completely ashamed at the memory, “I did, didn’t I?”

The door suddenly swung open, Mikan arriving with an orange and grey box of latex gloves, some half-pulled out of the opened cardboard top. She pulled a pair on quickly, turning to look at Nagito. She gasped lightly at the sight. “How long have you had this bruising, Nagito?”

“A few weeks, maybe.”

Mikan shuddered, “bruising can be a sign of blood disorders, especially when it’s in unusual places such as the chest, back, thighs and hands; these kinds of bruises tend to stay on the body for a lot longer and take a longer time to heal.” 

Hajime hummed hearing this, “I didn’t know that,” Mikan glanced over her shoulder at him as she sterilized the gloves. “As soon as I saw them though, it’s like I had this weird intuition, like someone was telling me something was wrong.” Hajime’s face grew hot, “it’s like I could feel Izuru telling me.” 

Nagito’s eyes were like saucers as he peered at Hajime from across the room, “well, he is one with you, isn’t he? It makes sense that the Ultimate Hope would be able to tell that something was wrong, and you do share your mind with him!” Nagito seemed momentarily more enthusiastic at the mention of Izuru and his hope. This enthusiasm deflated when Mikan spoke up again.

“Nagito, would you mind removing your p-pants and laying down for me? This shouldn’t take too long, I promise.” 

Nagito hesitated before sheepishly fumbling with his belt, pulling his jeans down his thin legs until Hajime could hear his metal belt chain clink as it made contact with the tiled floor. 

Hajime seemed to snap to attention when he realised what was happening, having been lost in thought ever since he thought about Izuru. He saw Nagito sit down in his underwear before laying down before a waiting, sterile Mikan, “I-I’m just going to feel around for any lumps, it might feel uncomfortable but I need you to let me know if it hurts, okay?” Nagito nodded and hummed an , ‘okay’. 

“uh, Nagito, would you like me to stay for this, or should I leave for a while?”

Nagito lay uncomfortably as Mikan began prodding at his neck, rubbing little circles around the area attentively. 

Nagito sounded a little unsure, but reassured, “I’m fine Hajime, you should concern yourself with more important things.”

Hajime thought about the others, probably sitting in the restaurant by now, oblivious to everything happening here. 

“I’m going to head to the restaurant to talk with the others, but I’ll come back here when I’m done. This should be over by then too, so you can have a little privacy.”

Hajime and Nagito said their goodbyes to each other, but Mikan was too absorbed in feeling around Nagito’s body to notice Hajime leave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im sorry for how relatively brief this chapter as well compared to the first, i think im going to keep chapters short from now on so that i can update more regularly :) 
> 
> hajimes gonna go thalk with the others next chapter so stay tuned
> 
> if you want to ><


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> id like to add a quick content warning at the start here, there is a breif description of a panic attack in this chapter. it is nothing too in detail or anything i just wanted to add it just in case :3 anyway this is the chapter where hajime breaks the news to his poor unsuspecting classmates, so enjoy :)

Hajime arrived at the hotel shotly, making his way up the steps at the side of the building to access the restaurant. He was greeted by the sight of his other former classmates tucking into breakfast; they were chatting away as usual over their toast, porridge and other breakfast items.

Hajime approached the table, and was promptly greeted by Sonia, “Good morning Hajime!” She was bright and chipper as usual.

“Morning, Sonia,” Hajime contemplated whether he should take breakfast over for Nagito and Mikan.

Kazuichi stretched his neck to look behind Hajime, “no Nagito again?” 

Hajime shook his head, “Nagito and Mikan are both over at the hospital. 

Kazuichi looked confused, “why? What happened?” 

Sonia chipped in, “I do hope everything is alright with them!”

Hajime’s face was flat, “actually, we’re not sure yet.”

Their looks were questioning as Hajime continued, “Nagito’s showing symptoms of being,” he paused, “sick.”

“How sick?” Fuyuhiko asked loudly, Hajime not realising that he had been listening in from a few seats down.

“Pretty sick.”

“Pretty sick? What the fuck does that mean? Just be clear with us Hajime, does he have a cold or-”

“Like, cancer sick.”

Silence fell over the room.

“Cancer?” Fuyuhiko reeled as if he’d been slapped. Sonia gasped and cupped her hands over her mouth and Kazuichi barked a loud, ‘what?’

Hajime nodded grimly. I wanted to inform you all of it at some point, Nagito made it clear to me a long time ago that he suffered from this illness for a while. He went into remission for a period of time, but it's looking likely that it's coming back. I’m sorry for being blunt, but I thought it’d be easier to say it outright like this rather than butter it up for you guys.”

He sighed and looked around at everyone's expressions.

“He’s getting a checkup from Mikan now, so keep in mind that nothing is for certain yet. Mikan wants to do some other tests before we say anything for definite, but as of now it's looking like that's the way things are going,” Hajime had to cough after he felt his voice grow heavy as if it were about to crack when saying the last part. 

Fuyuhiko exhaled sharply, and at first it sounded like a half-hearted laugh, until he looked to meet his gaze and saw the corners of Fuyhuiko’s mouth twist into a frown. 

Everyone’s expressions were ranging from shock, to sadness to bitter disbelief. 

“You- You’ve got to be- That bastard-” Fuyuhiko didn’t seem able to string together at least one complete sentence before it crumbled and dissolved completely on his tongue.

“Nagito is… sick?” Sonia seemed to repeat the information out loud more for herself than for anyone else. 

Hajime nodded, pressing his lips together into a thin line as he observed the shocked faces before him. 

“With cancer..?” 

The air felt thick and stale with tension before Mahiru spoke up, “is there anything we can do?”

Hajime bowed his head, “it’s best to leave him be for now and let Mikan handle things, but I’m sure once he’s done he’ll be up for talking. That’s as long as everyone doesn’t swamp him at once.”

Mahiru nodded politely as Hiyoko pouted, “poor big bro Nagito!”

“Wait, so, is he gonna be okay or is it seriously bad? Should we be worried about it?” Kazuichi looked bothered.

“He just said he has cancer, idiot! Do you not listen? Of course it’s bad!” Fuyuhiko barked.

Hajime raised his hand slightly, “hey now, let’s not argue. Like I said, nothing is certain right now and it won’t be until Mikan can properly diagnose what’s going on with Nagito. Try not to worry for now, Kazuichi, we’re just trying to get a clearer picture of what’s happening so that we can figure out an effective way to treat whatever Nagito has.”

The tension returned, not as thick as before but awkward enough to the point where no one felt comfortable enough to speak.

“Are you going to be staying for breakfast Hajime? Or did you perhaps come to pick up food for Nagito and Mikan?”

Hajime shook his head, “I’m not really in the mood for eating right now, I came by to fill you all in on what’s been going on for the past couple of days.”

“Remember to take care of yourself too, Hajime, it’s a stressful situation we’ve been faced with, especially for you considering you are closer to Nagito than any of us,” Imposter sighed, “but keep your own well being in mind as well.”

Hajime nodded appreciatively, “noted, thank you.”

Imposter nodded and took a sip of tea. 

“Breakfast is the most important meal of the day!” Akane yelled, “that goes for you and the other two!”

Nekomaru quickly backed her up, “yeah! Nagito can’t expect to regain his health while skipping meals!”

“I’ll prepare some lunch boxes for you to take for them, for now why don’t you have a quick bite to eat, Hajime? It won’t hurt,” Teruteru offered. 

Hajime smiled, feeling a small glimmer of hope warm his chest slightly as he remembered how much his friends cared, and how much they cared about Nagito despite past events. Yeah, everything would be okay if all of them stuck together. 

Ibuki cheered enthusiastically, “everything will be a-ok! Ibuki knows Nagito won’t take hell from a disease! We were hospital buddies!”

“Hey! I was there too, don’t forget!” Akane stuffed her face with grilled fish.

“Ibuki and Akane were BEST hospital buddies!”

“How can you guys be so hopeful?” a small voice pierced Ibuki’s laughter.

Hajime looked over to Ryota, who had his fists clenched either side of his plate, “we just found out that one of our friends could be seriously ill. We don’t know what’s wrong, or if he’s going to be okay, or if-” his breath suddenly got caught in his throat. He raised a hand to his face and another to his chest, clutching it.

“Ryota, are you alright?” Imposter leaned over to offer a soothing hand on his shoulder. Ryota’s shoulders shook as he spoke.  
“Chest hurts,” he gasped, taking in a few shallow breaths. 

“Let’s go outside, okay?” Imposter stood, guiding Ryota gently towards the exit to the outside stairwell. 

“Is he going to be alright?” Peko inquired.

Hajime nodded, “I think he needs some space,” he looked individually between them all. Akane was sitting back in her chair now, having finished her food. Fuyuhiko was leaning on Peko slightly, seemingly unaware that he was even doing it, Kazuichi was fiddling with his wrist watch and Sonia stared blankly at her plate. 

“I think I’m gonna head back over, Nagito won’t be at the hospital much longer, I don’t think. He’ll probably be back in time for lunch, if he’s up for it.”

Gundham stroked the soft fur of one of his devas, “only mortals and fools succumb to the foul pestilence brought upon them by the dark hand of Lucifer, the cruel depths of malady are mere childsplay for the wicked demon of snow.”

“Are you talking about Nagito, or are you roleplaying right now? If so, not cool,” Mahiru’s cocked an eyebrow. 

Hajime chuckled, “I’ll see you guys later.”

“Oh, wait, Hajime!” Teruteru came bustling out of the kitchen, to which he slipped off unnoticed at some point, with several neatly wrapped boxes in hand.

“Please take these for our dear Mikan and Nagito, won't you? And of course there’s one for yourself.”

He thrust the boxes into Hajime’s hands, we can’t have you all going without breakfast, can we now?”

Hajime smiled gratefully, “thanks, Teruteru, I’ll be sure to get these straight to them.”

Teruteru looked satisfied and Hajime turned to leave, “bye now.”

“Please, take care!” Sonia’s voice was heard just as Hajime pushed the door open to leave. 

On the way out, he passed Ryota and Imposter sitting on the front stairs to the hotel. Ryota appeared to have calmed down considerably, and Imposter was rubbing his back. 

“Is everything okay?” Hajime approached them cautiously.

Imposter nodded, “Ryota was just a little overwhelmed by the news,”

Ryota looked up to Hajime, “I’m sorry for causing a scene, I really do admire how hopeful you all manage to be in the face of something like this, so I apologize if i came off as if i was demeaning that.”

“You don’t have to worry, I’m sure the others know that too.”

There was a short moment of silence between them as Ryota exhaled.

“If you’re worried about Nagito, why don’t you both head over with me now? It won’t be too much pressure for just the two of you to come, plus I’m sure they’ll probably be finishing up by now anyway.”

“I wouldn’t want to cause any problems for any of you,” Imposter stated politely.

“Like I said, no problem. I think Nagito might appreciate seeing a face that isn’t me or Mikan after how hectic it’s been for him. Plus, you guys are pretty chilled out so it really wouldn’t be any trouble at all.”

“Well, in that case it can’t hurt to just say hello.”

The three made their way to the third island’s hospital, the two others giving Hajime a hand with the boxes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> woohoo, imposter and ryota joined the party. i love these guys and they dont get enough appreciation or mentions in fanfics whatsoever so expect to see them. i like the way ryota's energy matches with hajime and nagito and he has potential to mix well with them, and as we all know imposter is assigned team mom and can and will take care of everyone, no matter what.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> nagito's pov for this chapter :0)

Nagito lay, stiff as a board on the equally stiff hospital bed as Mikan worked her way down his body. She poked and massaged around his abdomen, putting enough pressure that he genuinely thought for a moment that she was going to put a hole in his torso.

“D-does it hurt when I press here?” Mikan questioned, prodding at his right.

“Not really, it’s just a little uncomfortable.” 

“It seemed a-as if you do have swelling around here, do you feel bloated at all?”

“I guess I do feel a little heavy around the middle,” Nagito replied flatly.

“So far I haven't noticed any lumps around your lymph nodes, would you mind if I checked around your legs now?”

Nagito froze before letting out his breath in a huff, remembering what Hajime said. She’s a medical professional, she’s not going to judge him. He’d been awfully insecure about his body for most of his life, with not even his own mother offering the slightest of reassurance. He’d feel ashamed if it weren’t for his self hatred telling him that he had no right to feel embarrassed. He knew he was filth, and filth like him only deserved to inhabit a body that reflects that. What right does he have to complain or act shy about it? He didn't deserve any better. 

“Yeah, sure,” he replied to Mikan after a few seconds.

She stood there awkwardly for a while. “U-um, you might have to, d-disrobe completely. I-if that's okay with you o-of course!”

Nagito nodded silently, doing as she said. Working quickly to allow no room for awkwardness, Mikan began inspecting the areas around his groin where lymph nodes were found. She pressed particularly hard on one spot, feeling something unusual. 

“I-it feels as if you do have a lump right around here,” she pressed down on ‘here’ for emphasis.

Nagito nodded. He knew that he’d been aching around that area for a little while but would have rather died than bring it up to anyone.

Mikan felt around a little more before saying, “that should be okay for now, you can put your clothes back on if you like.”

Nagito sat up when she turned away to remove and bin her gloves. He pulled his underwear back up and sat on the edge of the bed. He looked down at his thighs, thin and bruised with two, large horizontal scars near the tops of both legs. He tried not to look at them as he pulled his jeans on, followed by his shirt and jacket. He was practically shivering throughout the whole exam and he was grateful to be able to wrap up again.

“In order to take a proper look at your swollen lymph node, it might be a good idea to perform a biopsy. Luckily, it isn't a v-very complicated surgery and I could perform it here at the island hospital.” 

Nagito had never had surgery before, not even when he was a kid and was first diagnosed. He’d never given much thought to it, but the idea of being asleep and completely defenseless in the hands of another person was quite the scary thought, although he didn't allow himself to doubt the reliability of an ultimate’s talent even for a moment.

Nagito held his head in one hand, thinking about the long journey he had ahead of him. His head spun and he felt the room tilt around him as he shut his eyes to quell the spinning scenery.

“Nagito,” he opened his eyes to Mikan sitting in front of him now, on the chair next to the bed.

“I’m sorry if you feel like this is moving t-too fast, I Know it’s a lot to take on.”

Nagito shook his head slowly, “It’s fine, really. Honestly, I have no idea what's gonna happen to me, and I don't have much control over it either, so what's the point in worrying, right?”

Mikan looked serious, “I think we need to have a more in depth discussion a-about what treatment might look like, but until we know your condition for sure and are able to stage it, I can't say for certain.” 

“What would be the most likely options?”

Mikan thought, “w-well, for patients with hodgekin’s lymphoma, treatment typically looks like intense rounds of chemotherapy followed by radiotherapy, b-but…”

“But?”

“I’m not sure we have the e-equipment for that,” Mikan looked like she could burst into tears, “chemotherapy wouldn't be too difficult on it's own, b-but radiotherapy is a lot more tricky for a clumsy old nurse like me to properly administer.”

Nagito mulled over what Mikan had said. If it was true, and his cancer really had returned (which the likelihood that it had increased more and more) it was looking as if he would have to begin chemotherapy.

He didn't really know anything about that, or what it was like. He’d been in hospital as a kid, sure, but never for any special treatment like that. He vaguely remembered the kid next to him in a shared room in the children’s oncology ward looking sick, pale and hairless as he was swallowed up by the large bed and sea of blankets. 

It scared him, as a kid. He was worried that the doctors would make him too go on the dreaded treatment that made you sicker, smaller, weaker. The treatment that made your hair fall out; Nagito didn't like thinking about that. It seemed weird to him. He had a pretty good chance at going to sleep that night and not waking up, but the thing that seemed to turn his stomach was the idea of looking like one of those washed out, tired looking children who coughed raspily and threw up in the middle of the night. The idea of losing his hair bothered him, as it marked him as being like one of those kids. He couldn't just ignore his illness and soldier on as if it wasn't there if he had a constant reminder of it every time he looked in the mirror.

“H-however, common side effects of chemotherapy include fatigue, infection, nausea, hair loss, infertility, diarrhoea, mood swings and difficulty concentrating,” Mikan listed, voice clear and smooth when talking about something she knew about in detail. Her eyes grew wide when she observed Nagito’s expression, “b-but please don't feel discouraged, it will help very much in the long run! I-it might be difficult, but it is very effective against this particular type of illness.”

Nagito recalled each side effect listed one by one, and as he thought, the more he realised that he was probably going to be in for a world of fun. Everything Mikan listed sounded miserable, and he was certain that it was going to knock him about greatly considering he’d never been the most sturdy type of guy in the first place. 

People were always pointing out his weight, his lankiness, his apparent fragility. He hated it, he hated looking like a damn toothpick, but even if he had the appetite to gain weight or the stamina to work out, the extra fat and muscle would probably fall directly off of his bones immediately anyway. He just settled for himself the way he was, and despite not even being able to look at himself in the mirror most days he considered it fine.

Mikan gave him a reassuring smile, “b-but let's not think about it right now, it's better to take these things as they come.” 

Nagito nodded at that, not really finding the words to reply as he unfocused his eyes and stared at the wall for the umpteenth time that day.

His intent staring was interrupted when a knock on the door resounded throughout the room. “c-come in!” Mikan shouted somehow quietly, “we’re all done in here.” 

The door opened, and several figures quietly made their way in carrying a box each. The first figure was immediately recognised by Nagito as Hajime, the extra thud of his heart coming before his eyes had the chance to send signals of what he was seeing to his brain. 

The other two with him were Ryota and Imposter, who smiled politely. Imposter greeted him, “hello Nagito, how are you feeling?” 

Nagito forced a polite smile, “not too bad, all things considered.”

Hajime blushed, “uh, everyone was worried about you after hearing that you were at the hospital, and Ryota and Imposter tagged along to come pay you a visit. I hope that’s okay-” Hajime sounded uncharacteristically flustered.

Nagito laughed and nodded, “of course, although I can't imagine why anyone would worry about little old me, so I'm very grateful!”

Ryota coughed into his fist, “Teruteru made these lunchboxes, since you guys all missed breakfast,” he extended the one he was holding towards Nagito. He gratefully took it, placing it gently in his lap.

“Wow, it seems like I have all of the ultimates running around after me today,” Nagito smiled nervously, “but it is a kind gesture.

Why don't you take a lunch break, Mikan? You’ve technically been working all morning,” Hajime suggested. 

Mikan nodded smally, “if you don't mind, why don't we move somewhere more comfortable so that we can sit and eat together?”

The group moved to sit together in the small hospital canteen, making light conversation as they ate. After they finished up, Mikan let them know about the results of the exam. Ryota looked down at the bare table in front of him, “so, it's really happening, huh?” 

There was a moment of silence where they all acknowledged their situation. 

“Well, there’s only one way to look when walking forwards, and that's straight ahead of you,” Hajime smiled with warmth and confidence.

“Sorry, that was pretty corny, huh?”

Imposter looked at him, “you’re right though, Hajime,” he directed his gaze towards Nagito now, “There’s only one place to go when you think you're at rock bottom, and that’s up.”

Nagito smiled shyly, “you’re all so magnificent, thank you for allowing me to be the subject of your shining hope,” he muttered, barely audible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahhh i wrote this on my phone at 12am so sorry if theres any mistakes
> 
> i was debating whether or not to switch povs between haji and nagito but i think it would provide a nice different perspective 
> 
> also im uploading this chapter at school hehehehe


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ok, big emetophobia warning for this chapter and also cw for suicidal thoughts and a non sexual shower scene w hajime and nagito
> 
> i hope you enjoy this chapter, honestly i kind of made this one up as i went along so i hope its okay :)

The time came for lunch sooner or later, and Nagito wanted nothing to do with food after eating the breakfast Teruteru prepared. He wasn't a bad cook, not by a long shot, and Nagito would never want to disrespect the talent of a hard working ultimate but as he picked at some pickled vegetables Hajime cocked an eyebrow at his apparent reluctance to actually properly eat anything.

“Are you not feeling hungry?” 

Nagito looked at him sheepishly, “I guess I am still kinda full after breakfast.”

“You haven't touched your rice.”

Nagito looked a little embarrassed, “I’m not a huge fan of it, I suppose.” That was a huge understatement. Nagito hadn't touched the stuff since he was forced to eat it as a kid. The texture of it turned his stomach to the point where he felt sick just looking at it, but he never brought it up much due to feeling a little embarrassed about being a picky eater in his mid twenties. 

Hajime looked a little bemused, “it doesn't exactly taste of anything if you don't put anything on it.”

Nagito smiled and laughed, giving no other reply or elaboration. 

“Are you a picky eater, Nagito?” 

“I guess you could put it like that,” Nagito chuckled again breezily.

Not only was he full after breakfast, but several other factors turned him off from eating lunch. First of all was the impending doom he felt as he thought about the events of the morning and what Mikan had told him. 

He kept thinking about the surgery, and the treatment, and being officially sick again. It felt as if a million questions swirled rapidly in his head like a maelstrom. Would it hurt? Would he still be able to go out and do stuff? Would he be able to read? Would his hair fall out? Would he be able to talk to Hajime? Would Hajime even want to talk to him if he was sick, or bald, or just generally useless?

He felt sick.

Not only that, but being the centre of attention that day put him on edge. Even now, after meeting up with the others again to sit down for lunch, he could feel them looking at him. Some with sadness, some pity, some confusion, or curiosity or something else unreadable. 

When he’d first arrived at the hotel with the others, Imposter almost had to carry him in over their shoulder due to his reluctance to go and see his friends. They could tell that he wanted to skip out due to his hatred of being cared about in any capacity and Hajime was having none of it. 

They didn't necessarily argue, it was more like Hajime firmly telling him to allow them in just this once. Nagito caved and ascended the hotel stairs with them. Upon seeing him, their former classmates reacted immediately.

Sonia had hugged him as she cried, Akane slapping his back a little lighter than usual and Fuyuhiko gave him an earful for ‘getting himself sick like a damn idiot’.

Nagito assured them all that he was okay and that everything was going to be fine, and Mikan calmly talked everybody through the basics of what would happen. 

Upon hearing about the treatment Nagito may have to undergo, Kaz spoke up, “Wait, so Nagito’s really sick? Like for real?” He sounded like he was trying to hide poorly masked sadness, his words bloated with dejection.

“Yeah.” was all Nagito could say, feeling a little awkward at Kazuichi’s apparent sadness. It felt weird to have people spare their thoughts on him, let alone be upset on his behalf.

Now here he was, staring at the plate of rice and veggies in front of him feeling queasier by the second. The world felt distant, and his vision swam and bulged as if he was under water with his eyes open. Dull aching in his head only contributed to the intense vertigo he began feeling as well as the swirling nausea.

Hajime noticed something was off, “hey Nagito, are you alright? You’re white as a sheet.”

Nagito couldn't respond, feeling sweat bead on his forehead.

“Do you want to go back to your cottage?”

This time Nagito managed to nod, and Hajime stood to help Nagito. He stood on shaky legs, leaning on Hajime ever so slightly as they walked towards the steps.

“Hey, where are you guys going? Is everything okay?” Mahiru shouted to them. 

Hajime replied as they continued walking, “Nagito’s not feeling too well, I’m gonna help him get back to his cottage.” Nagito would have smiled nervously had he not felt so ill in that moment. 

“Oh, okay. Take care then.”

Sooner or later they arrived back at Nagito’s cottage, Nagito unlocking the door with shaky, clammy hands.

He sat down on his bed upon entering, and Hajime looked around. The room was still dark and was admittedly in a state of chaos. Clothes were strewn on the floor, the bed was unsheeted, and there were several cups on the disorganised surfaces. There was a strange, stale smell in the room that only ever accumulated in dirty, unventilated living spaces.

Nagito felt ashamed through the mess of sweat and brain fog. He’d always prided himself on his cleanliness, always wanting to be as neat as possible to make up for his otherwise disgusting existence. Recently however, he’d lost the energy to clean up after himself. He could no longer bend over to pick something up without getting dizzy, or put a sheet on his mattress without fatigue seeping into his muscles, or even be bothered to open the blinds in the morning since the strain of reaching over to them made his back hurt.

Sometimes, he’d end up lying on his bed only to look at the clock and see that he’d lost several hours. Sometimes he’d forget completely to do certain things, like returning cups or washing himself or brushing his teeth. 

He felt pathetic, truly the lowest of the low. Not only was he disgusting in his mind, body and soul but now he couldn't even take care of himself or the space he occupied. He really did feel like an utter waste, he should just crawl under his bed and die. He should just walk to the beach right now and drown himself, or throw himself off of the top of the hotel, or lock himself in his room until the sickness festered inside him long enough for him to keel over. 

The thoughts kept racing, sweat pouring off of him as he hyperventilated and shook so violently that he was dizzy. His mouth welled up with saliva and a powerful salty taste until he couldn't keep anything down anymore, emptying the contents of his stomach down the front of his shirt and onto his lap and the floor below.

He threw up again several times, not having the energy to get up and run to the bathroom and instead leaning over, letting it splatter onto the floor. His head spun, his eyes leaking as the acidic fluid dribbled down his chin and out his nose. The smell was unbearable and only made him dry heave more. 

Then he felt two strong hands take him by the shoulders and guide him to the bathroom. He knelt shakily before the toilet, purging his stomach only once more as Hajime did his best to clean up the ponytail that had become sloppy and mangled over the course of the day. 

Hajime rubbed his back comfortingly as he reached up to flush. He was still shaking violently, and by the look on Hajime’s face he must have looked horrific. Hajime handed him some scrunched up toilet paper to wipe his face with, which he must have done a poor job of as Hajime gently took it and wiped away the accumulated sweat, vomit, drool, tears and snot from his face. 

He felt disgusting, and if he had the energy he would've moved out of Hajime’s touch, horrified that he’d made him see him in such a state let alone touch him.

Hajime took a cup from the side of the sink and filled it with water and handed it to Nagito. “You okay?”

Nagito trembled in response, still sitting pathetically on the bathroom floor. Hajime looked sympathetic. “You look like you really need a nice hot shower.”

That was true. Nagito felt that the sweat had drenched through his clothes completely, he might as well have been swimming laps in the hotel pool fully clothed for how damp he felt. Not only that, but his shirt front and the lap of his jeans were soaked through with sour smelling vomit. 

Hajime stood slowly, “If you want to take a shower, I’ll clean up the mess in there in the meantime.”

Nagito could barely stand. Hajime helped him up slowly, practically hugging him with how much support he needed. He felt like when he was a kid and he’d fall over while playing and his dad had to come get him. He’d pick him up in a big bear hug and carry him back home safe; the difference now was that there was nowhere safe for him to return to. He had Hajime here to help, but even he knew that one of these days Hajime was going to get fed up with his disgusting neediness and walk away for good. 

Hajime felt how weak and shaky Nagito was and realised he was going to need a lot more help than he thought. 

“Okay, first of all, let's get you out of these,” he sniffed as his nose ran from the putrid acidic smell in the air. He gestured to the hem of Nagito’s shirt. Nagito began pulling it up over his head, realising in that moment how heavy and feverish his body felt. His arms felt heavy as lead bricks and he felt hot as if he were severely sunburnt. 

Hajime helped him in stripping down, throwing his ruined shirt into the laundry hamper tucked neatly in the corner of the bathroom. Hajime unbuttoned his own shirt, and Nagito attempted to ask what he was doing, but it came out as one big tired slur.

“Well, you’re in no shape to clean yourself properly, so I might as well help out. That's unless you're uncomfortable with that idea,” Hajime sounded a little nervous as he reached the end of that sentence. 

Nagito shook his head. He seemed to be being asked to expose himself a lot more frequently that usual lately. Besides, they’d seen each other naked on various different occasions and never gave it a lot of thought since they were content with each other. Hajime had initially been more flustered about it, but over time he grew to trust Nagito and knew that he wasn't the judgemental type. 

Hajime disregarded his dress shirt, tie, jeans, shoes, socks and underwear quickly after turning the shower on. By the time he was undressed and helped Nagito out of his unnecessarily tight jeans, the water was hot and steam filled the room. 

The two stepped in, and Nagito allowed the hot water to run over his head and trickle down the rest of his body. He heard Hajime uncap a bottle of something he couldn't see because he had his eyes closed. 

“Do you mind if I scrub you?” Hajime made sure to ask before touching Nagito. 

Nagito nodded and gave an ‘mhm’. He would usually protest, fighting Hajime tooth and nail in order to get him to stop helping him, but right now he felt as if he was about to fall asleep standing up. Hajime gently rubbed the lathered up washcloth across Nagito’s front side, abdomen, hips and back as Nagito allowed himself to just enjoy the relaxing feeling. Hajime squeezed a generous amount of shampoo into his hands and gently worked it into Nagito’s hair while he was at it.

Nagito didn't think he’d ever experienced this much physical contact in his entire life, and practically melted into the feeling of Hajime massaging his scalp. He did the same with the conditioner before rinsing it off. Hajime made quick work of washing himself and Nagito went back to simply enjoying the water running down him. 

“How are you feeling?” Hajime asked and Nagito couldn't really tell if he replied or not, let alone what he said. 

After a few more relaxing minutes, the water shut off and Hajime stepped out of the sliding glass shower door. He wrapped a towel around himself before gathering another for Nagito to step out of the shower into. 

Nagito felt safe in the warm, freshly laundered towel that he thought was probably straight out of the airing cupboard adjacent to the shower. They made their way back into the bedroom, Hajime quickly and wordlessly drying himself off and dressing himself again. He then made his way over to Nagito to help him dry off.

Hajime dabbed Nagito’s hair dry with a separate towel as he spoke, “I think you should try and get some rest, maybe take a nap if you can?” 

If he could? Nagito felt as if he could fall asleep right then and there on command if it weren't for Hajime actively drying down his body with a towel. Hajime handed him a clean shirt and a pair of boxers to put on as he quickly moved towards the bathroom again. 

“I’m gonna grab some cleaning supplies to clean up in here a little, okay?” 

Nagito nodded. He feverishly dressed himself before curling up on his mattress, still shaking a little but nowhere near as badly as before. He pulled the blanket over himself weakly and before he knew it, he was out like a light.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> okay this chapter is a little shorter than normal cos it acts as a bit of a bridge to the next bit, so hopefully the next chapter is a little more interesting:0)

Nagito awoke to a cold hand on his forehead. He could vaguely make out two concerned voices through his half-asleep daze. It was still dark in his room, and there was a strong citrusy smell like floor cleaner in the air. He blinked the clouded edges of his vision away until he could make out the figure standing over him. The hand withdrew, “it f-feels as if he does have a fever.” That sounded like Mikan.

He realised after hearing that that he did in fact feel pretty warm. Or maybe that was an understatement, as he could feel the entire bed below him was damp. His shirt stuck to him and sweat collected at the back of his neck and on his scalp, making his hair feel sticky and gross.

“Does that mean he’s sick? Well, we know he’s sick but I mean-” he realised then that that was Hajime’s voice. He remembered the events that transpired before he passed out all at once, feeling shame and embarrassment crawl up his spine like cold spider legs. 

He’d made a complete mess of himself in front of Hajime, vomiting all over himself like some kind of toddler, and then if that wasn't enough he’d allowed Hajime to wash him in the shower and clean his room for him. Why was he so useless, using Hajime like his own personal maid like that was completely unacceptable. He tried to hide further under the bedsheets, but his body was heavy as lead. 

“He might have a cold. If his immune system is working harder than usual to d-defend against his illness, it w-would make him more predisposed to common illnesses.” 

“Is he gonna be okay?”

“Y-yes, as long as we keep an eye on him he should be over it in no time. I-it may c-complicate things when it comes to s-surgery though. I-it may have to be postponed until he’s a-all better.”

Hajime sighed and paused before saying, “wait, Nagito, are you awake?” 

Nagito felt Hajime’s hand on his forehead now, bigger, rougher and a lot warmer than Mikan's small dainty cold one. 

Nagito tried to reply, but his throat was raw, so instead he nodded slowly. 

“How do you feel?”

Nagito blinked at Hajime and tried his best to give a coherent answer, “I’ve been better.”

Hajime smiled, “you just have a cold, but you're gonna be okay.” You don’t say. Nagito didn't think he’d ever felt this god awful in his life, except from the one time he contracted despair disease. Not only was he sicker than he's ever been at one point, but Hajime wouldn't even try to understand what he was saying to him and ended up leaving in a huff after Nagito said some things he didn't mean. 

“Y-you should just try to sleep, okay? Sleeping is the best way to recover from colds.” Mikan sounded like she was fiddling with her hands, Nagito deduced by the faint scratching noise. His head hurt so badly that even the faintest noises sounded deafening to him. 

“What time is it?” he rasped. 

“Eight thirty five,” Hajime replied. He'd been asleep all day and yet he still felt exhausted. 

“Are you comfortable? Are you in any pain?”

Nagito shook his head.

“Okay. Hajime, would you mind fetching a w-wet towel from the bathroom for me please?” Hajime seemed glad to just be helpful, immediately heading to the bathroom. Mikan took the bag out of the trash can that sat in the corner, shifting it to be beside his bed. 

“Hajime mentioned that y-you were throwing up earlier, so if you need to, you can use this bucket.” 

Nagito hummed, “thank you Mikan.”

Mikan smiled gently as Hajime returned with the wet towel, folding it and placing it on Nagito’s forehead. It made things just a little better, although the feeling of having a wet towel stuck to his head wasn't exactly comfortable either. 

“It would be much easier to keep an eye on you if you were i-in the hospital, but we can't exactly move you right now.” 

Hajime cleared his throat, “I could always keep an eye on him, I don't mind sleeping in here.”

Mikan looked grateful for that, “t-that would work, b-but only if you want to.”

Hajime looked at Nagito, “what do you think, you mind me staying with you?” Nagito was nodding intensely in his mind, but what came out of his mouth was, “please don't trouble yourself with me, Hajime.”

Hajime exhaled sharply, “well one of us is going to have to take care of you either way, and we can't take you to hospital while you're like this so it’s either me or Mikan staying in here with you, and I know how you'd feel about sleeping next to a girl,” Hajime laughed.

Mikan giggled, flustered. 

Nagito groaned, wishing they'd both just leave so he could get over this cold alone. As much as he wanted Hajime in his room all the time, it didn't make it any easier when Hajime insisted on helping him. 

“Look, I really don’t mind so just go get some rest, Mikan,” Hajime reassured. 

Mikan nodded, “I hope you both sleep well, and Nagito, I hope you feel better in the morning.”

Mikan left, shutting the door quietly.

Hajime sat down on the bed next to Nagito, reaching over to take the towel off of his forehead, “you should try and go back to sleep for now. I’m gonna get some sleep too.”

Nagito felt a little tense. Hajime was going to sleep next to him? In his bed? Willingly? He knew he should feel happy about that, but really he felt guilty. Guilty that Hajime had to sleep in his gross, smelly, dirty bed next to his gross, smelly, dirty self. 

He knew Hajime probably wouldn't have offered if it weren't for all of the stuff that happened that morning, as he too felt a little closer to Hajime now just by having him bear witness to his grossness firsthand. Hajime probably didn't see a problem sharing a bed with him if they'd literally shared a shower together. 

Hajime shuffled around, probably getting more comfortable and undressing a little so that he could then shift to lie down. The two were not touching, but it was the very first time Nagito had slept next to another person and he felt extremely content but nauseous at the same time. Sooner or later, he drifted back off to sleep listening to the steady sound of Hajime’s breathing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahh >w< bed buddies trope, how cliche


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> okay, warning for this chapter as it might be a little distressing to some,, theres a depiction of death in this one :0)

The low hum of an engine permeated the otherwise silence, and Nagito found himself shutting his eyes as he listened to it. He listened intently for any differences in the low, continuous droning, panicking slightly when they’d experience any minor amount of turbulence. He opened his eyes to look out of the window, seeing the massive bed of clouds that caught the evening sunlight and turned into a beautiful oil painting below them. 

He had his head rested on the wall next to the window, staring. It was all he could do as his nervous system was working overdrive, lethargy from the constant anxiety wearing his bones down until all he could do was sit and stare out at the scenery. His mother had attempted everything to try and raise his spirits, offering him his favourite book or some colouring-in and even offered to play a game with him. She never offered to do anything like that. 

He was simply too wracked with worry to do anything. He’d been worried ever since his father announced their trip, a delighted look of glee on his face that he simply couldn't bring himself to match. They just wanted to do something nice with him since they were always so busy, but instead of looking forward to their holiday, his mind was spitting out a hundred different possible scenarios that could make it all go dreadfully wrong. 

What if he got separated from his parents at the airport? What if the plane crashed? What if he got taken while they were out in public? What if his parents decided they didn't want him anymore and left him there? All the possibilities for his horrible luck thundered loudly in his mind until he couldn't concentrate on anything 

At least it was pretty, he thought as he stared out of the small airplane window. Not that he could fully enjoy it when he was imagining a giant black raincloud to form any minute and strike the plane with a gigantic lightning bolt.

His thoughts were interrupted when his mother tapped his shoulder lightly. She offered him a small purple and red packet with a smile, the corners of her eyes crinkling. His mother had always been rather beautiful, he thought. She was young, dressed well and always smelled nice. 

He loved smelling her rose perfume every time she’d give him a big hug after not seeing him for months at a time. She had strawberry blonde locks that curled neatly at the ends just like his, a pale complexion and only a little bit of light makeup. Her smile was radiant and always helped to comfort him a little, even if he couldn't help imagining her death every time he looked at her. 

She opened the packet, “open your hands.” she said in her usual gentle voice.

He did so, cupping his hands in front of him as she poured a few purple and red gummies out into his hands. She smiled again encouragingly as he took one and put it in his mouth. He enjoyed the raspberry flavour and the chewy texture, and it helped put a small smile on his face. That seemed to make his mother light up, “is it good?”

He nodded, taking another one. It was blackberry this time. He was in the middle of chewing it thoroughly (he was always worried about choking), when he heard his father’s panicked voice. 

“Yui, look,” he said, pointing from the other side of his mother.

He heard his mother gasp as he craned his neck to look, panic taking over his system immediately.

He only caught a glimpse of a tall man in all black with a weird mask over his head holding what looked like a gun before his mother pushed him down, attempting to shield him fully from the man’s view with her body. She was breathing funny as her and his father raised their hands in the air. 

The man was shouting, but he couldn't understand what he was saying or even hear him properly over the sound of his laboured breathing and racing thoughts. He could hear all of the other passengers, shouting and screaming in terror as the man shouted louder, giving commands. He couldn't comprehend anything the man was saying, or even if he was speaking Japanese because his mind was working so fast and was swamped with an overload of different thoughts all at once. 

He noticed his mother was crying uncontrollably and begging the man, for what he couldn't comprehend either, and at that moment he realised that he had the gun aimed directly at her face. His father was yelling too, and Nagito couldn't help the helpless tears from rolling down his face out of pure fear. He tried desperately to push himself down further, to crumple up into a terrified little ball on the floor when all of a sudden, he felt something heavy.

He felt his mother collapse backwards onto him before he even processed what he’d heard. A loud bang like a gunshot resounded, and a cacophony of screaming and wailing voices, including his father’s. 

He felt hot blood pour out of his mother’s body and directly onto him, sticking to his face and hair and chest. He pushed her, shook her shoulders out of shock as he screamed, “mom! Wake up! Please wake up!”

He saw her face, still and frozen in a look of pure terror with a gaping, bloody bullet hole in her forehead. The air left his lungs, and his scream was ripped from his chest with it. He screamed and cried and fought as something wrapped around his arms and legs, hands grabbing his upper arms and shoulders tightly as he wrestled with them to let go. He could hear his father yelling his name, “Nagito! Nagito stay still!”

He cried harder and thrashed more frantically as the screaming of the passengers grew more and more distant, the hands never letting go despite his vision of the rest of the plane going black. The yelling was still loud in his ears, “Nagito, can you hear me!?”

He looked around, unable to make out any of the other passengers, his mother, his father or even the man with the gun. All he could see through the mess of tears was a pair of wide, terrified eyes in the darkness. 

“Nagito! stay still, you’re going to hurt yourself!” Hajime’s voice said in the darkness.

Nagito’s heart was hammering like a hammer on an anvil, wrecked sobs still being wrenched from his throat. Hajime had a firm hold on his shoulders, “you’re okay, everything's okay, please just calm down.”

Nagito went still, breathing still coming rapidly and his heart thudding in his chest, but he felt relieved realising that Hajime was here. He fell forward, crumpling into Hajime’s chest and sobbing uncontrollably. Hajime wrapped his arms around him, rubbing his back firmly and he shushed him.

“You're okay, it was just a dream.”

Nagito felt, in that moment, the headache he had the previous night return at full force and the ache in his muscles along with it. His fever sent chills throughout him at the loss of the blanket he’d been fighting with in his confusion and he felt as if he was going to throw up again. 

Hajime held him until his breathing was calmer, and his trembling had mostly subsided. The nausea still knotted his stomach tightly, and his headache made everything above his shoulders feel like it weighed a tonne but he felt a little better wrapped in Hajime’s arms. He smelled, admittedly not great after probably being subjected to Nagito’s horrible night sweats, but it didn't matter one bit to him.

Having another person next to him after a nightmare helped a great deal, and Nagito allowed Hajime to run his hands through his damp hair comfortingly for a while as he regained his breath.

“Are you okay?” Nagito felt Hajime’s chest buzz as he spoke. 

“Mhm,” Nagito sniffed, the snot running down his face from his profuse crying apparently did nothing to unblock his sinuses. 

“Here, let’s clean that up,” Hajime said gently, grabbing a tissue from the box on the nightstand and rubbing at Nagito’s face with it. Nagito felt grateful that Hajime was willing to put up with this disgusting behaviour on his part, but after the dream he had he couldn't bring himself to push him away in any capacity. 

Nagito grumbled and pressed his forehead against Hajime’s clothed chest again. 

“Do you want to talk about it, or do you want to go back to sleep?” Hajime asked in a whisper.

Nagito looked to the side. He really didn't want to draw Hajime into his problems any deeper than he already had. In the past few days, Hajime had gotten to see the good, the bad and the ugly when it came to what Nagito could really be like, minus the good. He shook his head gently against his chest. 

“Let's try and go back to sleep, then.” 

They lay down next to each other, Hajime holding an arm up as if to offer a space for Nagito to lie under it. Nagito froze, was Hajime really offering to cuddle with him? But, they weren't even a couple; Hajime had only made it clear to Nagito a few days ago that he even saw him as a friend. Nagito’s head swam, completely confused but unwilling to pass it up after how shaken he felt. He gingerly crept over to Hajime’s side, feeling his warmth and Hajime laid his arm down to rest gently over Nagito’s side, keeping him close.

Butterflies churned around in Nagito’s stomach, not helping one bit with the nausea he already felt. Despite his brain going into overdrive with the panic of his nightmare still present and the excitement of sleeping so close to Hajime, Nagito’s fever knocked him out cold once again.

He awoke to the sun shining brightly through the gaps in his blinds and an overwhelming dampness yet again. He felt pleasantly warm, realising that he was still huddled close to Hajime with his arm resting against his back. That didn't stop the god awful night sweat from drenching him head to toe, and possibly Hajime as well. 

Hajime blinked his eyes open slowly, smiling gently as he saw Nagito curled up next to him still. Nagito felt a little confused that he was smiling, considering he woke up next to his putrid self.

“Morning, how are you feeling?” Hajime asked groggily, his breath a little stale due to him only just waking up.

“Better than last night,” Nagito replied, stretching a bit. His head and sinuses still felt like they were jammed full of cotton wool, and his muscles ached pathetically despite the lack of activity but he felt nowhere near as horribly feverish as the previous night.

Hajime hummed, closing his eyes for a little while longer. Nagito enjoyed lying there next to Hajime, allowing himself to indulge in what it might be like if they actually were a couple. Not that that would ever happen. Nagito felt a little disgusted with himself for even allowing himself to imagine it, why would Hajime ever want to be with someone like him?

Hajime removed his arm from around Nagito and stretched, letting out a long, satisfied noise along with it, “I think we should both probably take a shower again this morning, don't you think?” 

Nagito sighed, “yeah. I really am sorry that you had to share a bed with someone as disgusting as myself.” His voice was bogged down with the sound of what felt like concrete in his sinuses.

“Don't say that, I don't think you're disgusting, Nagito. Otherwise, why would I voluntarily sleep next to you?” 

Nagito thought, choosing to not answer the question as Hajime sat up out of bed. Nagito felt a sudden coldness at Hajime not being there anymore.

“You coming? Or do you wanna shower alone this time?” Hajime smiled down at him after standing up. Nagito got out of bed as quickly as the cold would allow him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay, i know that the scene i wrote for the nightmare isnt 100% accurate to what nagito actually went through, but in my experience trauma dreams rarely depict the event as word for word what happened, and sometimes dont have anything to do with the traumatic event experienced at all and so i wanted to write something a little different here. 
> 
> also here marks the point where nagito slowly begins to warm up to hajime, its not going to be an overnight thing still but maybe nagito begins to realise that being cared about Isnt That Bad and maybe he is allowed to be loved :3


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hnnnnnnnnnnnnnnjhbnjhhh

The days passed, and Nagito felt his condition improve a little; by that he meant he felt marginally less terrible than he did the previous few days. His headache had subsided and so did the nausea, meaning the only thing left to go was the annoying stuffy nose and dry throat that didn't leave no matter how many glasses of water he drank.

Despite the lack of a proper need to, Hajime continued sleeping next to him. He always used the excuse, “your cold hasn't completely cleared up yet, what if your fever comes back in the night and you need me?”

They both knew it probably wouldn't happen, but they both played along under the guise that Hajime was just looking out for him, that's all. Nagito allowed himself to enjoy it only because he knew that as soon as his cold was gone for good, Hajime wouldn't have an excuse anymore and would go back to sleeping in his own cottage. 

The thought made Nagito feel sad, deep inside his chest where it rested as a dull distant ache at the bottom of his heart. It made him feel utterly childish and ultimately selfish, but he was too touch starved to care. If Hajime was going to give him affection so willingly, there's no way he’d turn it away even if every cell in his body was screaming at him to push him away. 

He rolled over, looking at Hajime’s sleeping face basking in the early morning sun. His features were, admittedly, quite average but to Nagito he was the epitome of handsome. His skin was tan and freckled, his cheekbones quite high-set and his nose was slim and had a little bump at the bridge that Nagito couldn't figure out why he was so fond of. 

Everything about Hajime looked perfect to him, despite his messy bedhead and the fact that he was in the middle of drooling all over Nagito’s pillow. Nagito smiled gently until Hajime seemed to snore himself awake. Charming. 

He blinked a few times before looking at Nagito and smiling groggily. 

“Heya.”

Nagito cleared his throat, “good morning.”

“Are you ready for today?” Hajime asked.

Oh, right. Today was the day they'd agreed on for Nagito to have his surgery. Mikan had stopped by the night before and examined him again and gave the all clear, seeing as only the tail end of his symptoms still remained. It was only a minor surgery anyway, and the chances of infection were pretty low. 

He was still dreading the whole thing, anyway. He didn't want to admit that he didn't want to be seperated from Hajime. Despite the fact that the other had gone out his way to spend almost every second of his days with him since he got sick, Nagito still felt a crushing guilt when he realised that Hajime was probably only doing it out of pity. 

That’s the only reason anyone had ever done anything for him. People always felt bad for him, whether it was a concerned passerby on the street mistaking him for homeless, or a sympathetic looking teacher finding him reading alone again during lunch time, or a couple of friends allowing him to join their group for a group project because they saw he didn't have anyone else. 

It always went sour, they’d always realise what he’s actually like eventually. They'd get a look at his disgusting, perverted, putrid nature and turn tail and leave, calling him ‘crazy’ or a ‘psycho’ or just sticking to whispering between themselves. 

He did remember a time when it hurt. It stung to be called those things simply for acting a little differently, at least he couldn't really remember having done anything wrong. Then again, someone like him was bound to mess something up, right?

He recalled this one time, back when he was in middle school. He was on his way home from school in the early evening, enjoying the quiet walk home as no one else really walked the same route that he did. The sun was setting and the trees swayed languidly in the breeze, the repetitive motions catching his eye as he walked through the park. 

He side-stepped a short fence at the end of the park, heading out to the sidewalk near a quiet road that was perpendicular to the street he lived on. As he stepped out, he eyed up a white van that was parked on the curb, the windows were tinted and he could just barely see that the front seats appeared to be empty. 

Something in his gut twisted, and before he knew it there was a strong hand clapped over his mouth and he was being forcefully pulled into the van from behind. The doors were open at the back now, and he couldn't resist the pair of strong arms wrapped around him; he remembered feeling his left shoulder pop under the force of the person struggling to throw him inside. Being small, especially small for his age, he was eventually overpowered and was thrown in. He had made no attempt to scream before, shock taking over his system completely and numbing him entirely.

He couldn't remember many of the inbetween details, and his brain made no attempt to fill in the gaps. When he tried to recall what had happened, it felt as if he was reaching into a bag that turned out to be empty. 

All he did remember was that the man who had taken him must've taken him to his house or something, as he vaguely remembered being somewhere extremely run down and dirty, the whole place reeking of booze, cigarettes and dogs. He must've had around 13 dogs, all stinky and slobbery and nothing like the one he used to have. 

He remembered feeling homesick, overwhelmingly so, thinking about how much he missed his parents and his dog, and how no one was going to come for him. He’d felt well and truly hopeless and was willing to give in to any command that the man gave him at that point. After all, who'd come and rescue a no one like him?

He’d lain there, crying and shaking in a small heap as he tried to hide himself away in the corner as much as possible. The man asked a lot of questions, ‘where do your parents live?’ ‘do you have their phone number?, ‘do you have aunts or uncles? siblings? grandparents?’

He remembered the man sighing heavily before stopping off angrily. He was grabbed again, this time he didn't even attempt to resist. He was shoved inside something black head first, obscuring his vision completely as the man grabbed him more forcefully to fit his whole body into what he then realised was a black bin liner. 

His world spun and was tossed around as he was lifted inside the bag. He was making panicked noises the whole time, though he wasn't necessarily telling his body to. He was scared, sure, but he wasn't even thinking about what could happen to him. It wasn't like this man could do anything to him that was any worse than what he'd already been through, so he saw fit to just comply and see what happened. 

Being carried around in a trash bag was a nauseating experience, the small amount of warm, fetid air in the bag was being forced in and out of his lungs as he gasped in breaths heavily. The trash that had accumulated at the bottom was being tossed around as the man walked, apparently not caring how carelessly he was letting the bag swing by his side.

It felt like hours before he felt a rush of force, realising he must be falling. The bag fell, and he felt the impact as he crashed into something hard and uneven. He lay there for a few minutes, listening to the man’s footsteps as he walked away.

Once he realised that no one else was probably around due to the dull silence, he shifted to look for the opening of the bag. Once he found it, he took a deep breath of fresh air for the first time in what was probably only ten minutes but felt like a couple of hours inside the bag. The air around him was not so fresh, he came to find, as he looked down and realised he was in a dumpster.

The man had probably gotten fed up when he realised that he had no family to pay a ransom, he realised once he was older, but as a child he sat there completely dumbfounded and numb that not even a kidnapper wanted him around. 

He sobbed quietly for a while, curled up on top of some moldy old food and several stained throw pillows. He suddenly realised he had no idea how he was going to get home, and sat up to look around. As he did, something that had been stuck to his face fell gracefully down into his lap. 

He blinked his tears away to see what it was more clearly, and as he raised the sodden piece of card he saw exactly what it was. There was a scratch card stuck to his face that must've been inside the bag, bright yellow with black lettering and ten greyed out circles. He’d seen his parents use them occasionally, though they never won anything more than around three thousand yen.

He absently scratched at the grey with his chewed up fingernails, not really knowing himself what he was expecting. the first grey block revealed, in neat black lettering: three million yen.

He curiously kept going, scratching off a few more; one hundred yen, two thousand yen, two-hundred and five thousand yen, three million.

He felt a small, childlike excitement that he hadn’t felt since he was extremely young, before he was old enough to comprehend how badly things could go.

He looked intently at the card as he scratched more; five hundred yen, one million yen, three hundred, three million.

Wait, what?

Three million? 

He looked at the card, the cogs in his head still whirring as he struggled to comprehend it. He’d just been kidnapped, held hostage, thrown in the trash miles away from home and won the lottery. 

He stared, the sight before him barely registering with him. Should he laugh or cry? The irony was so horrible, so unbelievably cruel that only he could've experienced it.

His shoulders shook, tears welling up in his eyes before rolling down his cheeks uncontrollably; he laughed cacophonously from amongst the filth, knuckles white from how hard he was holding onto the ticket at the edges. He couldn't stop staring at it, laughing and crying simultaneously so hard that his throat felt raw.

The image of the sequence of events felt so real, and he felt just as overwhelmed as he had that day. The feeling constricted his chest, like strings pulling his ribs tightly together over his lungs as he wheezed for breath.

“Hey, Nagito, is everything okay?” 

Hajime sat up a little in bed. “You can tell me if something's wrong.”

Nagito could barely hear him as he chuckled with the small amount of breath he had. 

“Nagito, are you feeling okay? Can you hear me?”

Nagito laughed into his hands that covered his face, he curled over in bed so that his knees were brought up to his chest. Hajime reached over to gently stroke his arm, knowing that this sometimes helped bring Nagito down when he was having a moment.

Nagito’s laughter was mixed in with sobbing as he gasped desperately between the palms of his hands. Hajime waited and quietly shushed Nagito as his laughing dissolved completely into quiet crying. He rubbed his arm still, feeling every trace of the light muscle and even a little bone as his hand moved up and down. 

“Are you feeling overwhelmed about today? It's okay if you are.”

Nagito nodded shakily. He didn't feel too keen on relaying exactly what had been going through his head, feeling rather silly for even being upset about something as deserving of trash like himself happening to him. 

Not that he wasn't overwhelmed too. It was understandable for him to be. Nagito had never really allowed himself this level of help before and had certainly never had so many people supporting him. The whole ordeal was overwhelming, tiring and generally just a pain. He couldn't understand why they wouldn't just let him live out the rest of his days and be done with it already.

“Come on, do you think you can stand up?” Nagito helped himself up slowly, feeling cold the minute he stepped out of the warm sheets. Hajime was bent over the side of the bed, pulling his jeans up. Nagito thought he should do the same, collecting clean underclothes as well as the discarded shirt, jeans and jacket from yesterday. Once they were both dressed and ready, they left for the hospital.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> nodes


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> im sooo sorry for the long wait and all that, honestly i didnt expect anyone to read this shit or enjoy it so
> 
> pls bear with me btw, ive been finding it hard to get writing done in between school, mental health stuff and general executive dysfunction
> 
> this chapter was a struggle im not gonna lie, and it was written in bits over the course of a few weeks so if it seems off its because it isnt proofread at all. please forgive me for this but i wanted to get a chapter out in hopes that it gets the ball rolling for my writing habits for a bit . enjoy

Hajime opened the door for Nagito, stepping in after him into the small hospital lobby. They trekked to the usual room, finding Mikan already there as expected.

Nagito had a long morning, and he looked the part. He had blueish-purple eye bags under his tired eyes that stuck out like a sore thumb against his paper white complexion. Hajime gave him small encouragement throughout the morning, not wanting to swamp him but also not wanting to be absent when it seemed Nagito needed him the most.

He knew it must be extremely worrying, Nagito was thrown headfirst back into his illness after being clear of it for years, and now he had to have surgery performed by two of his closest friends on a small island in the middle of nowhere. It wasn't as if they were short on materials or expertise, but it must be daunting to have a procedure feel so personal.

Mikan was calm and collected that morning and Nagito sat quietly in bed as she fumbled around by his side. She was dressed in blue scrubs and a cap covering her hair. She was preparing to insert an IV, “w-would you prefer to have your anesthesia given through an IV or through a mask?”

Nagito was going to be given general anesthesia as suggested by Hajime who thought it'd be best to keep Nagito from being overly stressed during the procedure. 

“Either is fine.”

His voice had an ever so slight jitter to it. Hajime tried his best to give him a reassuring smile, but Nagito seemed too in his own head to register it.

After everything had been properly prepared and Hajime changed into his scrubs, plastic apron, cap and mask, Nagito was slowly put to sleep. Hajime had great faith in his, no, Izuru’s talents to get the job done and was ready to get the procedure over and done with.

After around an hour and a half, Hajime and Mikan finished up. The whole morning had appeared to breeze by, despite the anticipation of the surgery making the air feel practically solid with anxiety. Hajime always found it easy to really think whenever Izuru was being utilised, it gave him a feeling like he had room to stretch inside his own mind and get lost in thought as izuru worked almost autonomously.

Now it was over and Hajime could finally let go of the air that felt like it had been trapped in his lungs since that morning. All they had to do was analyse the results of the biopsy and wait for Nagito to wake up to make sure all was well.

And it would be, of course, he’ll wake up and be fine and they can figure out what's making him so sick so that they can fix it and everything can go back to normal. They’d been through worse than this, right? There's no reason for things to go wrong now. 

Hajime sat by Nagito’s bed, watching his sleeping face that was being gently caressed by mid-day sun through the gaps in the blinds. His chest rose and fell peacefully and eyelids twitched ever so slightly, his eyelashes white as if they’d gathered snow. His hair was fanned out around him on his pillow like a soft downy halo.

At least Hajime thought it’d be soft. It looked soft, the way it caught even the smallest breezes, though Hajime had never actually touched it. Despite his mind scolding him before he’d even done anything, he reached out to gently run his hands through the gossamer locks. 

It was pleasantly soft to the touch, though not exactly what he’d expected. It was gentle and wispy if not a little oily and felt practically weightless passing through his fingers. 

When Nagito’s eyes began to slowly flutter open, Hajime realised he’d been petting his hair for over half an hour.

“Hey.”

Nagito made a small humming noise, blinking as he looked around the room.

“Are you feeling okay?”

Nagito turned his head to the side on his pillow, looking at Hajime with a mixture of confusion and exhaustion.

Hajime chuckled lightly, barely above a whisper, “yeah. It’ll take a little bit before you feel normal again after the anaesthesia, but you’ll be okay.”

Hajime patted his arm with a feather-light touch, “as soon as we get your results, we can start treatment.”

Nagito shut his eyes and smiled faintly, his voice was extremely soft as he let out a small, ‘yay’.

Hajime wasn’t expecting that response, knowing how Nagito appeared to dread the looming idea of treatment but put it down to the drugs. 

Hajime smiled at Nagito through crinkled eyes, enjoying the small moment of quiet after what felt like a turbulent couple of days. It wasn't like it was going to be all peaches and cream from then on, but Hajime preferred taking time to stop and breathe every now and then. He watched Nagito’s light breathing as he shut his eyes again, warm sunlight pouring through the blinds and enrobing him in a gentle amber. 

Hajime leaned back in his chair, “You should be good to go in around an hour or so, but feel free to take as long as you want. You’ve probably been catching up on the years of sleep you missed for these past few days,” he joked.

Nagito laughed weakly, coughing a little as a sign of the remnants of his cold. 

The others were all eager to see Nagito, to know how he was doing, if he was going to be okay. When they heard he was having surgery, they expected him to be bedridden for days and high on all sorts of drugs, but really he was all set to head over to the cafeteria for late evening, his head only a little foggy from a mixture of painkillers. 

He sat and smiled politely as they all chatted and fussed over him, enjoying an evening meal together after a long day of anticipation. 

Imposter looked relieved to see that the two of them were in good shape after the few days that Nagito had been sick.

Ibuki was excited, but kept her tone hushed. She spoke in what was literally her normal speaking voice, just lowered by a fraction as to not receive a scolding from Mahiru. She seemed to be keeping everyone steady while Hajime was mostly caring for Nagito, assuming her usual big-sister role in making sure the others didn’t step out of line.

“So, like, did it hurt or-” Kazuichi was interrupted by Mahiru clouting him on the back of his head.

“Ow! What the fuck?” 

“Don’t be inappropriate, Nagito’s had a tough time and he doesn’t need you asking stupid questions,” Mahiru said.

Nagito laughed, “it’s okay, really, it hasn’t really been that bad. Not with Hajime taking care of me,” he looked at his lap momentarily, avoiding the other’s gazes. “Oh, and no, it didn’t hurt. I was actually asleep the whole time.”

Fuyuhiko turned to face them after taking a bite of his doughnut. “So, what’s gonna happen now?”

Hajime cleared his throat, “well, now Mikan and I will have to take a look at the, uhm, ‘samples’ we took from Nagito and see whether they’re cancerous or not.” 

Fuyuhiko grimaced at the mention of the disease. 

He didn’t seem to be taking it well, by the look on his face Izuru could tell that he had kept his hopes up that they were mistaken. Hajime tried his best to reassure the group, as usual, “Like I’ve said before, it’s not gonna do much for Nagito if you all sit around worrying about him, right?” 

Nagito nodded, “I’ll be fine, I’ve survived worse,” he smiled in a way that Hajime could only describe as cheeky.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the long wait again, but this chapters gonna be a lil more on the relaxed side but the next chapter will be more significant to the story :0)

Hajime woke to the sound of the island's tropical birds whistling what sounded like just outside his window. They were a constant background noise that he usually found pretty irritating, but that morning, well, actually they were still pretty damn irritating. He was about to sit up to go and close the window, but something heavy pinned his chest to the bed. 

He looked down to see a head of white hair resting on his chest, breathing softly against his skin and tickling it ever so slightly. He smiled, running his fingers through it and watching as Nagito barely stirred at the touch, completely still and peaceful. 

He’d forgotten momentarily that he and Nagito were still sharing a bed. It was supposed to be a temporary thing as he was watching over Nagito when he had a high fever, but even now that he was better they stuck to the routine with no real excuse. No one else knew, so why did it matter? They were both comfortable and were happy for the company, so why should it matter if two friends were sharing a bed? 

Although, he hadn't seen Nagito as just a friend for quite a while. He also knew that Nagito felt the same, partially because of Izuru and partially because the other man had never been the type to understand subtlety. He didn't feel quite ready to say it outloud, though. it seemed more like the sort of thing that remained unspoken between the two. 

Hajime was content with that, for the time being. He didn't want to risk making things more complicated for Nagito when he was so vulnerable. However, something in him told him that he cared more for the sleeping man than he’d ever thought he could care for a person, and he was going to stop at nothing to see him happy. It might take a while, but he was determined to make this as painless as possible for him.

Soon, Nagito slowly stirred awake. He blinked his long, white eyelashes and shifted before realising that he was positioned on top of Hajime’s chest. He stilled, looking up at Hajime with a bashful expression. 

“Sleep well?” Hajime asked, voice cracking as he spoke for the first time that day.

Nagito hummed a reply, resting his cheek on the bare skin of Hajime’s chest. 

“It’s still gonna take a little while for Mikan to get your results in order, so in the meantime do you wanna take a day to relax? We can do whatever you want, it's up to you.” 

Nagito thought as he hummed softly, sending gentle vibrations through Hajime’s chest.

‘If you don't mind, I’d like to walk around the island a little, maybe,” Nagito replied quietly.

“Sure thing, you have been in bed for like, a whole week.” Hajime did his best to smile warmly despite the sudden thought that for some reason flashed across his mind.

It was a single image of Nagito, lying in a hospital bed, frail, gaunt and weak. Way too weak to be able to walk around, confined to the bed that looked enormous compared to his frame.

Hajime shook the thought off quickly,  
He probably had a lot of pent up stress that he hadn't been dealing with properly that was causing him to think weird things. He blurted out a question as a means of quickly taking his mind off of it, “you wanna go get breakfast first?” 

Nagito smiled, lulling his head to the side slightly to give Hajime a clearer view of his face. He drew little circles on Hajime’s chest with his finger, and Hajime was almost astounded with how comfortable the action was, and how out of character it would’ve seemed a few months ago. 

“Yeah,” he responded, his voice croaky and relaxed. 

As much as Hajime wanted to stay like that all morning, Nagito’s featherweight touch on his skin and warmth enveloping him completely, he knew that breakfast would be on soon. They should probably get there before Akane devoured the majority of it. 

“Come on then, we’d better get dressed.”

Nagito at that moment buried his face in Hajime’s front and groaned at the thought of getting up.

“Come on, I know you're tired but there's no need to be dramatic,” he said teasingly.

Nagito stuck his head up at that, “aha, sorry,” he laughed nervously.

Hajime wore an amused expression, “hey, I’m kidding, I know you're not actually dramatic.”

Nagito looked momentarily embarrassed, “oh”, he then began to laugh again.

Hajime enjoyed the sound. 

After getting dressed and cleaned up, the two made their way over to the restaurant. Inside, Sonia and Gundham were having pancakes. Gundhams hair was loose, cascading in front of his face. it was not in the slicked back style it usually was and Hajime could see that his hair was actually naturally pretty wavy. 

Sonia looked elegant and beautiful as ever, her platinum blonde hair in a long ponytail with intricate braiding at the sides. Hajime had no idea how she had the time to do it all in the morning, until an amusing image of little cartoon bluetits flying through her window in the morning and braiding it for her crossed his mind.

‘Good morning, I hope you both had a restful night,” she smiled, putting down her knife and fork as she greeted them, picking up her tea cup and sipping from it. Her hands were the same pearly alabaster as the bone china, intricately hand painted to match the saucer it had been resting on. 

“Morning Sonia, hey Gundham. I slept pretty well thanks, and you?” 

Sonia nodded politely, “it is good to hear. I also had a rather pleasant night, thank you.” 

Gundham cocked an eyebrow at the two, “It appears that two wayward souls have become connected as one, as demonstrated by the snow demon’s vestments.” 

Hajime felt a little confused before looking over at Nagito, who had turned bright pink. 

He put his hands up defensively, “it’s nothing like that, I swear,” he chuckled breathily.

“What?” Hajime looked between the three before looking more closely at Nagito. He then realised that he was wearing one of Hajime’s shirts under his usual green hoodie, and honestly he hadn't even noticed. Nagito had been wearing Hajime’s shirts for most of the time he’d been sick, and Hajime had probably worn a couple of Nagito’s at some point. They just kind of slipped into the habit over time sime neither of them cared a whole lot. 

The shirt Nagito was wearing in particular was a joke gift Hajime received for his birthday from Kazuichi a few years back, it was blue with a large cartoon orange wearing sunglasses with the phrase, ‘orange you glad im a cool guy,” in bold lettering. He’d only ever worn it to bed, and at some point it must've ended up in Nagito’s possession during one of their many ‘sleepovers.’ 

The gears in Hajime’s head turned even more as he processed again what Gundham had said, “wait, no, you’ve got that wrong!” 

Sonia laughed as Gundham sat smug, arms folded with a few pancakes left before him.

“Gundham is only teasing,” Sonia smiled understandingly.

Hajime laughed nervously and shook his head a little as he sat at the table in front of them, Nagito immediately following to sit beside him. 

“So anyway, I wanted to ask you something Gundham.”

“And what would that be?” Gundham opened one eye to acknowledge him.

“I’m curious, why is it that you call Sonia the ‘dark lady’ and Nagito the ‘snow demon’, but pretty much the rest of us are humans to you?”

Gundham chuckled deeply, “Only those that have proven themselves my equal in power earn their titles, anyone else could never hope to reach my level of greatness.”

Hajime quirked an eyebrow, “power? Did something happen between you guys? I mean I understand why you'd think that about Sonia, but I don't think I’ve ever seen you guys talk much.”

Gundham smirked, “In a battle of courage, the snow demon was the only one who could face up to me, the supreme overlord of ice. He did not cower when confronted with my unbridled malice.”

Hajime cocked his head a little to the side, suddenly cottoning on to what Gundham might be getting at, “let me guess, you guys played chicken in the sea.” 

Gundham looked annoyed but Nagito laughed, “dead on, you're getting better at this, Hajime.”

“Though, it did come close when Akane and Gundham went against each other, if it hadn't been for her teammate Nekomaru’s sudden need to run to shore,” she recalled the last part with a polite sensitivity. 

Hajime sighed, grinning, “that sounds like it was a lot of fun, I should go next time you all hit the beach.”

“Most definitely, we should plan to go once Nagito is feeling better.”

Hajime smiled at the hope that Sonia’s words instilled in him. He was happy to know that the others were in high spirits about it all. 

They ate breakfast together, which was pleasant. They listened to Gundhams tirade about the crabs he had discovered up by the rockpools, or as he called them, ‘the armored claw demons’ and Sonia went on about a gorey cannibal case she’d read about, turning Hajime off of his eggs. Nagito ate as he listened politely. It felt like it was going to be a good day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank for reading also can u tell i have no idea how to write gundham despite him being one of my favourite characters


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> nagito and hajime go on a short shopping trip sort of not really and come across a friend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok first of all i just wanted to thank everyone whos read this so far for taking the time to, especially the people who leave such sweet comments they really keep me going so thank you all <3 
> 
> but anyway this chapters a lil short cos its a bridge between pov shift, next one will be following nagito (is it a pov if its in third person? idk)

Soft clouds hung overhead, gentle wispy spirals before the clear blue backdrop of a sky. The air was cool and still, a perfect day that wasn't too cold or too hot. It was fairly rare for it to be so mild on the Island after all. Nagito looked around as they walked, seeming to get lost in thought as they enjoyed the comfortable silence. Hajime tried to enjoy the scenery, but he kept shifting his gaze back to Nagito eventually. 

He always found himself fascinated by how his features had changed in subtle ways over the years, his once boyish face now more like that of a man. His jawline was sharper and more defined, his adam’s apple bobbing ever so slightly as he hummed an almost inaudible tune. If it weren't for the complete serene silence, the melody would’ve been drowned out completely. His wavy hair brushed down over his shoulders, now reaching down his back. He disliked cutting his hair and had seemingly grown quite attached to it as it grew out and stopped sticking out so awkwardly, always saying it was his one feature that he didn't completely hate. 

He’d always been a good looking guy, maybe not conventionally attractive but Hajime adored his little imperfections all the same. In the morning sun, Hajime figured he resembled something like one of the angels that were always drawn in the depictions of bible stories his parents used to make him read. 

In the middle of that thought, Nagito turned to look at him, seeing that Hajime had been staring at him the whole time. He averted his gaze and exhaled a short laugh. Hajime did the same, looking at his shoes. 

Neither of them appeared to know exactly what to say, Hajime a little embarrassed after being caught staring and Nagito a little antsy after feeling a pair of eyes on him. 

“So,” Hajime broke the silence, “how are you feeling?” 

Nagito smiled, dimples adorning his cheeks when he did so, “pretty good today, thanks.” He looked down, “what about you?”

Hajime stuck his hands in his pockets, “I’m good as long as you're good.”

There was a period of silence again.

“Hey, I’m kinda thirsty, do you wanna go and get some drinks from the supermarket?” 

Nagito smiled in a way that made Hajime’s heart flutter, “sure.”

They arrived at the supermarket, heading straight for the refrigerated drinks at the back. When they reached the cooler, Kazuichi was already standing in front of it, pressing one of the buttons over and over again impatiently with an annoyed look on his face. 

“What’s wrong, can’t get it to work?” Hajime spoke up as they approached him. Before he could get to the end of the sentence, Kazuichi shrieked in terror and whipped around, looking like a deer in headlights.

“Hey now, we didn’t mean to frighten you,” Nagito looked genuinely remorseful.

Kazuichi calmed down pretty much immediately, seeing who was behind him. “Geez, don’t sneak up on me! And yeah, it ate my stupid coin and won't give me my soda.”

“Have you tried shaking it?” Hajime suggested.

“Well, I was gonna but,” Kazuichi looked a little antsy, “you know what they say about doing that.”

Hajime looked perplexed.

“Y’know, shaking vending machines is more dangerous than shark attacks!”

Hajime exhaled a short laugh, “well, how often do people go around aggressively shaking sharks for candy?” 

“Look I just don't want it to fall on me, okay? Plus it's fuckin’ heavy!”

“Fine, I’ll give you a hand, stop crying.”

“I’m not crying,” Kazuichi said with a slightly child-like frustration as Hajime grabbed onto the right side of the machine. Kazuichi followed along, grabbing the left as Nagito stepped back out of the way. 

The two men, on the count of three, aggressively shook the machine, attempting to coax the drink into falling down. After stopping and starting a couple of times, the bright green can of carbonated soda fell with a metallic ‘bang’ to the bottom of the machine. 

Kazuichi looked triumphant, and Hajime let go and rubbed his hands together to dust them off. Kaz excitedly reached in and pawed around for his drink, pulling it out and began to crack it open. 

“Finally, I’m thirsty as fuck-” he was interrupted by the soda can exploding open, the fruity, bright pink contents spraying him in the face when he went to take a drink in a way that was almost comical. 

Hajime doubled over in laughter immediately, whereas Nagito tried his hardest to hold it in. He eventually turned a bright shade of red before bursting into laughter along with Hajime as Kaz stood looking both upset and unimpressed. 

He fumed silently. He despised being the butt of the joke and having his drink ruined only made it worse, the stickiness seeping into the front of his jumpsuit and staining it red. He waited as the two others cackled as if they hadn't laughed properly in weeks. 

Their howling was interrupted by a meek voice, Mikan had shown up at some point without any of them noticing. 

“Hello,” she greeted shyly as Hajime began collecting himself and standing upright, wiping a stray tear from his eye. 

“Hey Mikan,” he paused to let out one last chuckle, “what’s up?”

Nagito covered his teeth as he laughed quietly, suppressing the last bit of his excitement to greet her, “Hello there.”

“Um, well, I’m having trouble with some of the equipment at the- the hospital,” she said, stumbling only a little.

“Oh, need me to take a look?” Hajime still didn't feel used to being actively needed for things like this, and it was both convenient and inconvenient simultaneously. It was convenient in the sense that he- well, Izuru could fix pretty much anything including things outside of Kazuichi’s expertise, and inconvenient that he ended up being saddled with a lot of jobs because of it. 

“If you don’t m-mind.”

Hajime cast an apologetic look towards Nagito, but didn't see any sort of disappointment on his face at all. 

“I’m sorry, I know I said I’d hang out with you but do you mind? It shouldn't take long.”

“Not at all, you guys are the ones helping me, aren't you?” 

“I’m so sorry for interrupting, I shouldn't have come,” Mikan squeaked.

Hajime shook his head, “don't worry about it, It’s not your fault.”

“Yeah, take all the time you need. I’ll be fine on my own for an hour or two won't I? I’m not completely hopeless,” Nagito laughed breezily. 

Despite Nagito’s understanding nature, Hajime couldn't help but feel like a downright scumbag for ditching him. 

“You sure?” 

“Yes, of course I’m sure,” Nagito looked genuine. 

“Okay then. I won't be long, I promise.”

“Thank you,” Mikan said with her hands to her chest, looking stiff as a board as she walked out of the store at Hajime’s side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanx for reading (ps if u read this fic u r sexc)


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> most of this chapter is kaz and nagito hanging out, its mostly filler dialogue and stuff and kazuichi being confused about his sexuality and a little bit too curious about nagito's 
> 
> the end is going to advance the plot ever so slightly though, so i hope this one isnt too much of a drag to read :')

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> also sorry if the pacing is wack on this one, didnt know how to pad out the end much more so it kind of just, ends rather quickly? so im sorry if it reads weird but yeah

Nagito gave a half hearted wave as Hajime and Mikan left. He stuck his hands in his pockets, realising he was alone with Kazuichi. It’s not that they fought for anything, but he knew Kazuichi was extremely distrusting and tended to prickle up around him when they found themselves alone together.

“So are you guys like,” Kazuichi unexpectedly broke the silence, “a thing now or what?” His voice was flat, sounding a mixture of uninterested, disappointed and perhaps a little bit grossed out. 

“Oh, not really,” Nagito replied awkwardly.

“Oh,” Kaz sipped at his drink still, the slurping and clinking of the can the only noise cutting through the thick tension. 

“I saw you two were sharing a cabin and- you’ve been really close lately so I figured, like,” Kazuichi kicked his shoe against the tiles making it squeak.

Nagito laughed humorlessly, mostly to fill silence more than anything, “oh, that,” he faltered, not knowing what to actually say.

Kazuichi drank the last of his soda, “is it like, a friends with benefits-”

“No! No, of course not, no,” Nagito looked horrified at the suggestion.

Kazuichi nodded, “yeah, sorry, that was uh, stupid.” He looked rather dejected about something, Kazuichi was never the type that was good at hiding emotions and Nagito could tell something wasn't right.

“Are you doing okay?” 

Kazuichi sighed, “why do you wanna know?”

Nagito was a little taken aback by the sharp response before shrinking back down, “sorry, it’s not my place for someone like me to be so casual with an ultimate. First I had the audacity to laugh in your face, and now I’m trying to act familiar. I really am worthless.” 

There was a brief pause before Kazuichi spoke again, “wait, no, you’re not-” he sighed when he couldn't find the right words. “Don’t do that, stop doing that, okay?”

“Wha-”

He cut Nagito off, “Look, everyone thinks it's weird the way you talk about yourself, you can't go around calling yourself that crap! It weirds people out, man,” he fidgeted with his beanie, “you’re not worthless, but you’re a little creepy when you start acting like that.”

Nagito was silent, an unreadable look on his face.

Kazuichi sighed again, “c’mon, don't make me feel like an asshole, all I was saying was-” he looked extremely uncomfortable now, “okay, I’m sorry, I didn't mean to call you weird but you get what I’m saying, right?”

Nagito nodded, looking slightly lost and apologetic “I wasn't aware that I was making the ultimates feel so uncomfortable…”

“See that, that right there! calling us ‘the ultimates’ is just, it doesn’t feel right! It’s like you worship us or something, it makes me feel like you're gonna go acting how you did back in the killing game again.”

Nagito looked genuinely lost now, “but, you ultimates are beacons of hope. How else should I address you all?”

Kazuichi pinched the bridge of his nose, “oh I don't know, like we’re normal people like you?” 

Nagito seemed slightly baffled after having his thought process challenged in such a casual, every day setting. Sure, people had told him before that he was ‘creepy’ or ‘weird’ or a downright lunatic, but he’d never taken any of these criticisms into account. At those points in his life, most of the time he was way too far gone in his own delusions to even hear what people were saying about him, let alone care enough to properly take it into account. 

He knew it was only natural that the ultimates would despise his worthless existence, but Kazuichi was making it sound as if it was his own actions that pushed them to avoid him. 

“Besides, you hang out with Hajime and he’s technically an ultimate, do you act like this with him?” Kazuichi’s words broke through his deep thought. 

Nagito struggled to justify it in his own mind, he lay awake a couple of times after waking up in the night thinking about leaving Hajime’s side to sleep somewhere else. It’s not like he deserved to sleep next to an ultimate, or talk to one so casually or have one tend to his needs so kindly. He didn't even deserve to be looked at by Hajime, he knew that deep down. His presence was something greater than he could ever hope to achieve, too bright and hopeful and dazzling for him to ever be worthy of. 

However at this point, it felt as if the loneliness that would ensue after pushing Hajime away might as well be a ten tonne truck with how it’d crush him. He didn't want to go through his cancer alone, he didn't want to be alone ever again now he’s been allowed just a taste of what love might feel like. 

Incredibly presumptuous as it was to assume that Hajime would ever love him back, Nagito somehow allowed himself to at least play pretend. Hajime’s brilliance would be forever out of reach to a gutter crawling maggot like himself, close enough to brush ever so gently with his outstretched fingertips, but never close enough for him to hold it, feel it or ever truly have it to himself. How selfish he felt. 

“I- fuck dude, I don't exactly trust you a whole lot after everything you did, but I get that you're going through some stuff right now.” Nagito avoided Kazuichi’s gaze like it’d burn him. “Do you wanna maybe, hang out a little? I still think you're a creep don't get me wrong but maybe we could- well, Mahiru said we should try to understand you a little more.”

Nagito understood then. After all, it wasn't like Kazuichi to want anything to do with him. It also wasn't like Kazuichi to listen to Mahiru, or anyone for that matter, but Nagito figured he was feeling a little lonely himself. 

His response came a few seconds after the awkward mess of a question, “sure, if you can stomach being around me then I’ll gladly take you up on your offer!” Nagito seemed a little too enthusiastic, and Kazuichi laughed nervously.

“Okay dude, but we’re gonna do what I wanna do, okay?” Nagito nodded and smiled. 

The two spent part of their afternoon together, mostly rifling around in the junkyard that was Electric Avenue, looking for whatever Kazuichi found cool and tossing it into a pile. Kaz nattered on the whole time about cars, bikes and engines, sparing no detail as he rambled endlessly. Nagito tried his best to listen, after all he was being allowed to listen first hand to an ultimate go into detail about his talent, but most of the technical jargon was lost on him. 

He sat and listened patiently for what felt like hours, glad that he was able to witness the hope an ultimate’s talent brought first hand but admittedly becoming a little tired after a while.

Eventually, the subject of the conversation shifted onto a topic Nagito was not as eager to hear about; ‘Miss Sonia’.

Kaz talked about her all the time, his infatuation with her was obvious to everyone else on the island. “What do you think she’s up to right now? I don't think she does much, being a princess and all, she must have a lot of spare time. She’s used to being pampered in her castle all day after all!”

Nagito cocked an eyebrow and smiled politely, “have you ever asked her about what she does? Or maybe what she’s interested in?” 

Kazuichi scratched his chin, “no?” 

Nagito sat in silence, Kazuichi was now in the process of taking apart an old computer tower, laying the parts out neatly and inspecting it all. 

“Well, I believe she’s fairly into true crime, if you wanted to talk to her why don't you ask her about that? She is very passionate when you talk to her about something she is knowledgeable on.”

“I don't need your advice on how to talk to girls!” Kazuichi exclaimed rather defensively.

Nagito put his hands up in response, “sorry, sorry.”

Kazuichi continued to fiddle as silence filled the air again, he thought for a moment before speaking, “have you, you know, ever had a girlfriend?”

Nagito shook his head no, “I have not.”

“Well, how does it come so naturally to you?”

Nagito was confused. “Pardon?”

“You know, talking to them.”

“Talking to who?”

“Girls you idiot!”

Nagito laughed mellowly at Kazuichi’s frustration, “I talk to women the same way I’d talk to anyone else.”

Kazuichi’s eye twitched ever so slightly as he poked his tongue out in concentration while removing more parts from the desktop. “What about when you want a girl to go on a date with you? If you talk to her normally, how will she know?”

Nagito was a little dumbfounded at Kazuichi’s logic, “I think most people like it when you get to know them before asking them out. Maybe the reason Miss Sonia avoids you so much is because she isn't interested in someone who doesn't show interest in her personality.”

Kazuichi seemed a little embarrassed and frustrated, “what do you know anyway, it’s not like you have a ton of friends.”

Nagito shrugged, “I guess you're right.”

There was another brief silence. 

“It’s not fair. Even though you're a weirdo, the girls all seem to like you.”

“Kazuichi, may I ask you something? As long as it isn't too personal.”

Kazuichi hummed, “I guess so.”

“What is it that you like about Miss Sonia so much?”

Kazuichi spared no time answering that, “well, she’s hot, blonde and a princess! Are you blind or something?” 

“So it's her looks you're interested in?”

“Well, yeah, that's what you're supposed to like about women right?”

Nagito sat and looked at the sky. 

“Why? What do you like about women? Do you even,” Kazuichi cut himself short.

“Do I what?”

“Are you, y’know, even into girls?” Kazuichi tailed off at the end, appearing as if he was wondering if he’d overstepped a boundary. 

Nagito laughed, a little embarrassed at the question, “I’ve never really given it much thought.”

Kazuichi’s next question seemed to leave his mouth before he really thought about what he was saying, “do you like guys?” He seemed a little eager to know, for what reason Nagito wasn't sure.

He laughed again, “I suppose so. I don't put a lot of value in gender when it comes to the strength of someone’s hope.”

That response seemed to puzzle Kaz, who somehow seemed to be taking apart his machine with aggression.

“Why?”

Kazuichi didn't reply for a while. 

“I dunno,” he sat up, every piece of the computer now lay before him on the dusty tiled ground, every individual piece accounted for as they caught the sun that hung high overhead. 

“Wow, impressive!” Nagito clapped, “Are you going to build something?”

“Nah, I’m probably gonna just put it all back together now.”

Nagito nodded, watching as he immediately got back to work again.

Birds squawked as they flew overhead, beating their wings in front of the sun; it created dark black shadows on the dusty earth that grew and shrunk in unison with the birds circling and swooping. Nagito watched, eyes squinted and head tilted up towards the sky as he sat with his knees to his chest. He rested against an old, clunky computer monitor, the once black plastic bleached by the sun and a fine layer of sand coating the top. 

Kazuichi looked tense as he worked, giving Nagito the impression that there was something left unsaid that Kazuichi perhaps wanted to ask. He decided to leave it, it wasn't his place to pry, after all. 

After a while, Kazuichi did speak, “were your parents okay with it?”

Putting a hand to his forehead to block out the sun, he looked over to where Kaz was sitting cross legged. He seemed to concentrate heavily on what he was doing, avoiding meeting Nagito’s gaze by any means necessary. “With what?”

Kazuichi coughed, “that you, uh, aren't straight.” He seemed to keep coming back to this topic.

Nagito sat back again and shut his eyes. 

There was yet another silence while Nagito was still, allowing the breeze to caress his face and push his bangs out of his face gently, “my parents are dead.”

“Oh, fuck”

Nagito opened one eye, “hm?”

“I’m sorry, dude. I didn't know,” Kazuichi sounded embarrassed after realising how personal his line of questioning was getting.

“If you want to stop talking about it, that's fine.”

“I don't mind, they died when I was very young. I don't remember them all too well.”

Kazuichi nodded, scratching his stubble. 

“But, to answer your question, I think they would’ve been okay with it.”

Kazuichi looked up, “you think so?”

Nagito laughed, “I can't say they’d be proud of anything else I’ve done, but they certainly wouldn't have disapproved of anything like that. At least, that's what I like to think.”

Kazuichi frowned. “My old man was never that accepting.”

Nagito tilted his head slightly.

He seemed to come up with another thought before scrapping it, “nah, he’d never approve of anything like that.” He laughed a little nervously.

Nagito thought it sounded more like he was telling himself that than he was telling Nagito. 

“Why? Do you think you might be into guys-” before Nagiro could even finish his question, Kazuichi barked out his response.

“No! Of course not! Why would you think that?”

Nagito pursed his lips before apologising, “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable, but you’ve been asking me about it an awful lot.” 

Kazuichi’s face read ‘crushing embarrassment’ as he stuttered, “w-well I was just curious that’s- that’s all!”

Nagito nodded understandably, “okay. I believe you.”

“Good!” Kazuichi dusted his hands off on the front of his white shirt. His hands weren't dirty mind you, he was likely doing it to get rid of the collected sweat on his palms.

“But I also wouldn't judge you if that was the case,” Nagito's voice was quiet.

Kazuichi sighed, it was so quiet it was nearly inaudible, but Nagito caught it.

“Well,”

Nagito didn't look at him, lying back with his eyes closed to give him time to talk with no pressure.

“I dunno, I always just get kinda-” Kaz wringed his hands. “Freaked out when I find a girl likes me like that.”

“Hmm.”

“It’s weird, like, I want to get a girlfriend and stuff so it’s stupid that I get nervous about it last second. It was like that in highschool at least.”

“Would you be uncomfortable if Miss Sonia showed interest in you?”

Kazuichi blew out a sharp breath, “well, it’s Miss Sonia so, it's different.”

“Hm.”

“Well, maybe, I would. Just a little. But only because she’s so-” he thought, “she’s completely out of my league.”

Nagito nodded understandingly. He understood where Kazuichi was coming from, at least a little. He knew how it felt to be in love with someone so high above him, so painfully out of reach. 

“It’ll never happen though, I know that. I’m not that stupid.”

Nagito looked up at him, the light of the sun burning his eyes momentarily as they adjusted. 

“Is that why you go after her?”

Kazuichi looked at his hands, now hunched over, “well, kinda, yes and no.”

Nagito went back to resting his eyes. 

“She’s gorgeous, I can't deny that. She’s everything I’ve ever wanted in a girl, ever since I was a kid; I know she’d never like me back and it hurts but is also comforting at the same time.”

“It hurts.”

“Yeah. I guess. I dunno.”

Kazuichi sighed, laughing breathily and adjusting his hat, “man, why am I spilling all this to you of all people?”

Nagito smirked, “beats me.”

“Even though I still think you're weird, you're pretty easy to talk to when you're not raving about hope or whatever.”

Nagito raised an eyebrow, “thank you?” He didn't like getting compliments from the ultimates but after what they’d been talking about, Kazuichi seemed a lot more human to Nagito in a certain way. 

He heard gravel and sand being kicked around, opening his eyes to see Kazuichi was rising from his spot. 

“I’m gonna head over to the cafeteria, I’m starving.”

“Okay.”

“You can come or stay, do whatever you want,” Kazuichi turned to leave.

Nagito acknowledged that Kaz usually wouldn't have offered for him to come and appreciated it. To be completely honest though, he wasn't feeling super hungry and watching someone else eat might make him sick. 

Nagito raised a hand, “I’m not feeling hungry right now, thank you. Enjoy your meal, though.”

“Yeah. See you,” Kazuichi began to walk away, gravel crunching beneath his sneakers. The sound stopped suddenly, and Nagito looked up to see him paused in place with his back still facing Nagito. 

“Uh, thank you, by the way.”

“What for? I didn't do anything.”

“Just for, y’know, listening to me.”

“Don’t worry about it, that's all someone like me is good for, after all.”

Kazuichi’s shoulders slumped at that, “yeah.”

He walked away, leaving Nagito to sit with his back still propped on the old computer.

Later that day, after no sign of Hajime still, he decided to head back to his cabin for some rest. He’d almost fallen asleep several times after Kazuichi left and so he decided it’d be best to get into bed.

He undressed down to his shirt and boxers and crawled into his usual space on the bed, he’d taken to sleeping on the left as Hajime seemingly preferred the right. 

It’d only been half a day without Hajime, but Nagito found himself feeling desperately lonely sleeping without him. He didn't want to admit he was allowing himself to feel so shitty just because Hajime left him alone for one day, but he couldn't stop the incoming silent tears from falling down his face. He pulled up the blankets hoping the warmth would be a small comfort. 

He pulled his knees up to his chest and fell asleep in the fetal position, zonked out after only around 5 minutes. 

After his brief, dreamless sleep he awoke to the door opening and closing. He looked over in time to see Hajime standing in the doorway, the sky starry behind him. 

He smiled, groggy and a little nauseous but happy to see Hajime again. His cheeks and nose were red and his breath was coming out in billowing clouds of fog, illuminated by the yellow lamps of the cottages behind him. 

“There you are, I looked everywhere thinking you were still out.”

Nagito sat up as Hajime approached, shutting the door before sitting next to him on the bed. 

“Sorry, I was tired,” Nagito mumbled.

“It’s okay. I’m sorry I was gone so long, I really didn't expect to be but Mikan ended up needing help with some other stuff and it took longer than expected.”

“It's okay, really.”

“No, it’s not. I told you I wouldn't be long and I took all damn day, I really am sorry, Nagito.”

“Don't worry. I’m not worth spending any time with at all, really.”

Nagito seemed more curt with his self deprecation than usual, but Hajime put it down to him being tired. “Hey, stop that, I really did want to hang out with you y’know.”

Nagito yawned and nodded, too tired to verbally protest more. Hajime’s next words seemed to instantly wake him up, however.

“I should also tell you, when I was at the hospital, I got your results.”

Nagito looked at Hajime’s face, his expression like stone only softer, like a mural of gentle understanding had been etched in with a steady hand. 

“What is it?” Nagito’s voice was barely above a whisper. Hajime took his hands in his own, keeping them in his lap. He nodded, lips pursed. His eyes met Nagito’s, and when they did he saw a glint in them, the amber light of the lamps outside peeked through the windows and reflected off the tears that were pooling there. 

“It's cancer.”

Nagito drew in a quiet but sharp breath. It was exactly what he’d been expecting for weeks. It was exactly what he’d dealt with for most of his life now, only now it felt worse. Scarier. Now he had someone to care about, who didn't want him to die. It was a lot easier to deal with the first diagnosis when he didn't care if he lived or not, but now he’d dragged Hajime into it and the revelation felt like a cinder block on his chest. 

He’d been expecting it, so why did it knock the wind out of him? Why did it make him hurt inside, make his head feel fuzzy with worry, make his hands shake inside Hajime’s? 

“Don't worry. It’s all going to be okay.” 

His heart skipped about ten beats, Hajime raised his hands to his face and kissed his right knuckles before pressing his hands to his cheek. He felt his heart lurch as new feelings of excitement and bewilderment and confusion came together to mix crudely with the anxiety and despair into a sweeping maelstrom of sickly emotion. 

He felt high, it was all so much at once. Hajime could probably tell, as he let go of his hands and left them to rest in Nagito’s lap, “sorry.”

Nagito didn't know what to feel first. He sort of wished he was asleep, or ten years in the future or back wherever he was before he was born so he didn't have to be here right now, at the base of this giant, impossible mountain. 

Hajime smiled, though it didn't make it to his eyes. He was obviously upset, and it was all Nagito’s fault. 

“We’ll tell everyone tomorrow, but now we should get some much needed rest, sound good?” His voice was soft and crackly. 

Nagito nodded, waiting patiently for Hajime to go to the bathroom, brush his teeth and get undressed before joining him in bed. When he did, he was almost like a magnet at his side. He tried not to make it obvious quite how desperate he was to feel Hajime’s warmth but failed miserably, worming his way straight to his side and settling into his arms. 

His head was pounding, dizzy, sick, throbbing, pain. Those were the words pulsing through his mind. Hurts, too much, sick, selfish, selfish, selfish, selfish. He ignored it. 

Hajime held him tight, one arm wrapped around his shoulder and the other resting on his own chest. As much as his mind was screaming at him that he was being utterly selfish, he must admit he did feel safe. And so nice and warm. The warmth and the headache made it hard to really think about anything properly, and so he let himself fall into another dreamless sleep. His problems would still be there to worry about in the morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks so much for reading babes xxx


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WARNING!!!! please read: this chapter contains some pretty graphic stuff and descriptions of gore and amputation, as well as referenced s//icide  
> please read at your own risk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im sorry if this chapter is a little dark out of nowhere im kinda going through it rn 
> 
> also it isnt proofread so sorry

The next morning flew by, a dull headache in Nagito’s head that felt as if his brain was being stirred intensified as he followed Hajime around. He wasn’t sure what to do with himself after the news of last night, and so he found himself attached to Hajime’s apron strings for the majority of the morning, doing everyday morning things. He felt like a shadow, watching as he went about his morning; opening the curtains, combing his hair, brushing his teeth, lost in thought and not really paying attention when Hajime spoke to him.

“What’s on your mind?” Hajime asked before spitting a mouthful of toothpaste into the sink and rinsing his toothbrush. 

“Nothing.”

“You sure? You look out of it.”

Nagito nodded, “mhm.”

Hajime looked in the mirror, turning his face from side to side and feeling his chin for stubble. He must’ve not felt any, because he then turned to leave the bathroom. Nagito followed him as if on autopilot. Hajime didn’t seem to mind, but raised a concerned eyebrow, “are you worried I’m gonna up and leave you again?”

Nagito snapped up to look at him, “what?”

Hajime shook his head and smiled, “you’ve been following me around all morning, what’s wrong?”

Nagito fell silent again, “sorry.”

Hajime patted his arm, “hey, it’s okay, I don’t mind. I just want to know what’s eating you so I can help.”

Nagito opened his mouth to speak before pursing his lips again, looking slightly defeated. “You don’t have to help me. I’m fine,” he said in a tone that felt light enough to be carried away by even a small gust of wind.

Hajime sat down on the bed with a sigh, “come on, I can tell you’re not. You don’t have to tell me anything if you don’t want to, but I’d like to know. If there is something, I don’t want you to feel alone with it, you know?”

Nagito nodded and exhaled, forcing a half-hearted smile, “everything’s fine, Hajime.”

Hajime looked at his hands in his lap and nodded. “Okay.”

Nagito’s smile slipped away the second Hajime’s gaze left him. 

“Well,” he said, getting up from the bed, “we should get going over to the cafeteria.”

Right. They were supposed to keep everyone else updated on Nagito’s condition, and that meant telling them about his condition.  
He was grateful for everyone’s concern, but he hated the feeling of being the centre of attention whenever his illness came into discussion. He’s rather the floor swallow him up than sit there while the ultimates of all people make a fuss over him. 

It was bad enough having Hajime do that for him. 

He hated having Hajime always there, looking out for him and caring about him and for him, always being a stable presence in his life and never allowing him to feel alone. He hated having someone so special and important waste his time on a lowly piece of crap like him, all of that hope going to waste on a filthy, useless subhuman like himself. 

He hated it, but he also loved it so, so much. He couldn’t forgive him for allowing Hajime to become so entangled in his stupid little problems the way he did, purely because he wanted to feel good just this once in his life. The thoughts consumed him constantly, an overwhelming guilt that filled the silence of his thoughts whenever he had a moment’s peace and resting like a sickness in his chest even when he was distracted. 

For now, he agreed to go along with Hajime, even if it was going to be painful.  
His old self would’ve probably attempted to make as much of a scene as possible, or made one completely on accident by running his mouth. His endless tirade about hope was something like a broken record, an eternal earworm to the rest of his classmates. Now though, he felt too tired, too fatigued out and too fed up of his own thoughts to express them verbally anymore. His mind kept wandering back to what Kazuichi had told him, yesterday? The day before? He couldn’t remember dates too well; all he knew was that Kazuichi had let him know just how uncomfortable he made them all. 

Before in the killing game, he’d had no idea and probably couldn't have cared less even if he did, but nowadays it felt more like another one of those things that would end up on the amounting pile of things to feel guilty about later when he got a clear second to think. It was like a constant static, buzzing inside his head and clouding it up with a useless fog of unwanted thoughts. 

He sipped his water, hoping it’d dull the pain in some way as he listened to the mellow nattering of his classmates across the table. Hajime sat beside him, barely touching his breakfast and opting to do the same as he was, sipping on his drink instead while appearing lost in thought. 

He wanted to tell them and just get it over with, but he didn’t feel like he really had the words. 

“Hey, guys?” Hajime spoke up, just loud enough to be heard by the whole table. He’d finished his drink, ice cubes resting at the bottom of the glass and melting into a pool; the sight was uninteresting but Nagito fixed his stare on it as Hajime spoke.

Their conversations ended, turning to look at Hajime, “what’s up?” Fuyuhiko asked, coffee in hand. 

Hajime cleared his throat quietly, “we got Nagito’s results yesterday.”

The room went silent, and Nagito felt like he was in a pressure chamber for a few seconds before he heard Fuyuhiko take in a sharp breath, “well?”

“Do you want to tell them?”

Nagito felt Hajime turn to look at him, the question obviously being directed towards him. He took a few seconds to gather what he’d been asked before opening his mouth, looking like a suffocating fish as he turned to look at the concerned faces of his peers. 

“Uh,” he began. Good start. “I, uh, have cancer.”

Silence. 

“What?” The single word sat in the open air for a while before going stale when Nagito couldn't think of a proper response in time. Fuyuhiko seemed more concerned than Nagito would’ve really guessed he’d be, even before Hajime had said anything he seemed eager for any news, even if he didn’t say it outright. 

“You serious?” Kazuichi was gritting his teeth, seeming as if he was trying to not appear emotional in any kind of way, but it was leaking non-subtly into his voice like a sickly oil slick. He looked between Nagito and Hajime before fixing a hard stare at his plate.

Most of them seemed too dejected to react in their own ways. They all looked as if they’d been hoping for a different outcome, that it’d been a mistake or that there was another explanation; Nagito had known all along, though. 

They ate in mostly silence, no one really had the right thing to say, only occasionally sending sympathetic looks towards Nagito or exchanging the odd word here and there. Some of them tried to lift Nagito’s spirits with hopeful words, but he couldn’t concentrate on what any of them were saying. He nodded and gave out polite smiles but couldn’t seem to think of anything appropriate to say amongst all the fog. 

After a while, Nagito decided he’d had enough of the oppressively gloomy atmosphere, that was almost certainly his fault, and got up to leave. He didn't say goodbye to Hajime, nor did he look at him as he left. He felt a little guilty; it was sort of rude to just leave after all. Oh well, he figured no one would care after how awkward his presence was making things. 

He passed most of the day by himself, busying himself at the library or sitting on the beach and watching the waves roll in as if escaping from the dull dreariness of the grey sky only to collapse on the sand. It gave him time to think as well as let Hajime have some time to himself. He didn’t doubt that he was getting a little too clingy lately; he could tell from the way Hajime looked at him that morning that he was getting too much. He knew it. He’d just have to avoid him for a while. That’d help.

No one else really came by either, considering it wasn’t really the right weather for a beach day. The pewter sky was heavy with thick, domineering storm clouds that were visibly being pushed along by a gale that brushed against the sea’s surface. It hadn’t quite reached the island, but Nagito suspected it’d be a stormy evening. He hugged his coat around him tighter, the smell of Hajime’s aftershave clung to the shirt he was wearing after he’d given it a quick once over that morning. Showering didn’t feel like an option lately. 

Hygiene in general was proving itself to be an obstacle all on its own. He knew Hajime had to be disgusted by him, especially considering it was only recently he began to fail to take care of himself. It’s not like he really cared. His body was disgusting anyway, rotting beneath the surface of his skin in a way that could never be scrubbed clean. What was the point in putting effort into taking care of something as dreadful as himself? He’d let himself decay if he could. 

Even as the sun sank behind the darkened skyline that evening, being pulled below the insipid scenery of the brewing storm Nagito had no desire to rejoin anyone else. All of a sudden, he dreaded the idea of seeing Hajime again, the idea of it sending his gut into a spiral of nausea. He kept being so nice to him. He was so supportive, so kind, so understanding. He knew he was getting too close, too attached and soon Hajime would see him for what he really was and leave him. He’d see everything that Nagito hated about himself and decide that it actually was true. 

He decided to leave it until late, until he was sure Hajime would’ve gone to bed and fell to sleep to go back. 

Until then, he was alone with his thoughts. He was exhausted, drained emotionally and physically from the circles he’d been going in inside his own head as well as the general fatigue of daily life. He joked to himself that he was getting old, the dull muscular ache setting in and his limbs feeling heavy like stones. He got up, deciding he’d rather walk around for a while in the dark than be pulled out in the incoming high tide. Although, he did contemplate it. 

Sooner or later, it felt late enough to drag himself back to his cabin. Inside, as he’d suspected, Hajime had gone to bed and fallen asleep. He was happy at least that Hajime hadn’t gone looking for him or anything, though he supposed he had better things to do. The lights were off, and Nagito only had the energy to kick his shoes off before laying in bed on top of the covers. He stayed on his side of the bed as he fell into a restless sleep. 

Tight, tighter, tighter. He pulled the tunicate tighter with his right hand and teeth, the yellow-white fabric stretching until it was almost stressed enough to tear. That was good enough, it wouldn’t matter much how effective it was in the end. He felt his arm begin to tingle, a strange feeling of building pressure in his limb as the bandage limited the blood flow. The tips of his fingers began turning a strange purplish-blue and he couldn’t help but stare in fascination. The veins in his wrists bulged, bright and blue under his almost translucent skin. He was a sickly white in the places where he wasn’t black and blue with bruising, cuts and other injuries littering his arms and body. 

Excitement built in his gut, dread and anxiety and jubilation at the thought of what he was about to do. Finally, the bitch was dead and her body was right here before him! It was only a little disappointing, he’d wanted nothing more than to be the one to watch her suffer in agony, but he supposed this hand to be the next best thing; he’d be able to wear a glorious trophy of her defeat on him forever, remembering her unrelenting despair and it’s remarkable defeat at the hands of his beloved, shining hope. 

He wasted no time, laughing raggedly as he picked up the rusted bone saw on the table before him. It was cold in Tsumiki’s cellar, but the adrenaline firing through his body and clouding his mind was enough to keep him warm. He pondered for a minute choosing something else, considering how dirty and flimsy it looked but decided there was no time to waste. He stretched his arm out before him and without thinking began to drag the saw back and forth across his flesh at a random point on his forearm. The pain wasn’t immediate, taking a good few seconds to register in his brain but when it did he couldn’t stop himself from cursing loudly, his voice reverberating loudly inside the barren, bricked room. It never reached his ears, though, the pain and shock and ecstasy was too much for him to even fathom anything else existing at that point in time. He considered stopping only briefly to survey the damage he’d already done but decided he was too far in as at that very second he struck bone. The sensation was like nothing he’d ever felt before, sending waves of agony up through his arm and across his entire body. His body was wracked violently as he pushed harder, hearing the saw scrape into his bone. The pain was so violent he dry heaved, the noise of metal on bone driving its way through his skull, so loud he couldn’t think or do anything but continue. His hands shook, sweat dripping profusely from his face and his vision blurring. Blood oozed from the wound., seeping into the lap of his pants and shirt and only then did it come to his attention that he was on the ground, knees buckling from under him at some point leaving him in an uncomfortable kneel. 

He pushed, determined to ignore the pain as he drove the saw into bone harder with every pull; biting his lip so hard blood leaked down his throat and chin. He hadn’t realised until then that he’d been making a lot of noise the whole time, deaf to his own agonised screams as he focused only on finishing the job. He heard his bone make a splintering sound, the pain shaking his body again and making him see stars; he dry heaved again and vomited into his lap from the immense pain it caused. He wiped his mouth haphazardly with the upper arm of his leather jacket, sniffing back snot and vomit and blinking the tears out of his eyes. Just a little more, just a few more pushes and-

His limp, blue, bleeding arm fell unceremoniously from his lap, rolling to the concrete floor and laying there in the pool of blood that had collected. He gasped, giant, heaving breaths. He laughed, unable to suppress it, growing more and more hysterical as the weight of what he’d done sunk in. It was gone, lying there on the floor before him. Limp and soon to be cold, stiff as the bitch that lay rotting across the room. 

His laughter turned to screams of horror, raw, animalistic noises that tore from his throat and died when his lungs failed to provide the oxygen to continue. The laughing, screaming, crying, the throbbing, relentless pain. It was too much, too much, way too much to comprehend. The world was bleeding around him, falling apart like wet paper and sloughing off the fabric of whatever was keeping it together. It became precedingly darker, darker and darker still as he lost his vision completely. 

He was staring at his ceiling. Just like that, the basement around him had blurred into the plain, white ceiling above as he lay, silent, sweating, crying. He was in a state of absolute numbed shock from the dream, the only noise in the room was that of Hajime’s deep undisturbed snoring. 

He turned, his entire body shaking so violently he felt as if the bed was moving as well. He looked at Hajime who slept soundly at his side, mumbling something in his sleep every now and then. 

He really hadn’t wanted to remember that. 

Memories from his childhood were grim and would shake him up emotionally, sure, but were all in all easier to cope with for him. That, however, was something that continued to haunt him in a way that wasn’t as easy for him to just shake off.

It was a testament to how disgusting he was, how depraved he could really be. Who would love someone who does things like that? Who hurts themself like that? Even if he deserved it. He did deserve it, after all. He only deserved pain like that. Pain for causing other people pain. Pain for causing the ultimates so much grief. Pain for making them so uncomfortable. Pain for making Mikan help him. Pain for making Hajime help him. Pain for loving Hajime so much. It was disgusting. He loved Hajime. He, Nagito Komaeda, the embodiment of everything sick and wrong with the world was in love with humanity’s greatest hope. The idea was so funny he could cry. 

He stood on shaking legs, dragging himself on weak limbs to the bathroom and locking himself in. The light was blinding as he turned it on, the neon glow of the single light bulb too much after staring blankly in the dark for so long. He wished he’d never let them help him, that they’d just let him fester with his illness and just die like he was meant to. He wished he could go back in time and run away from Hajime, run away from Mikan and help and the idea of getting better. He didn’t want to get better, it’d be so much of a pain if he stayed alive. He couldn’t just tell them to stop, that he didn’t want to go through with it. They’d never let that happen. 

It all made him feel trapped, boxed in and unable to move. He couldn’t run from it, he couldn’t do anything about it, he just wanted it to be quick and over with so it could be done and no one would have to worry about him any more. He just wanted it to be over with. 

Over with. 

He felt completely numb besides the sickening tormented feeling sitting heavily at the bottom of his stomach. He wasn’t thinking properly, his head spun as he thought of an easy solution. It was the first immediate answer, an obvious answer. It came to him and felt so clear, so safe and comforting that there was a way out of this, out of the pain of everything. He wouldn’t have to worry about his cancer anymore, he wouldn’t have to have any more nightmares, he wouldn’t have to suffer this constant sadness and guilt or worry about loving Hajime or whether he loved him back.

He wouldn’t have to worry about anything anymore, and it would be so easy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading next chapter should be hajime pov :>


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ok big warning for topic of suicide

Rain hammered the rooftop of the cabin, the sound of it loud enough to make anyone think it was strong enough to cave the ceiling in on its own. That, coupled with the loud crashes of thunder and dizzyingly bright flashes of lightning was enough to rouse Hajime from his sleep.

He woke, still delirious and confused at what all the noise was being caused by before realising the day before had shown signs of a brewing storm. That and the bed was empty and cold next to him. 

He’d been so busy helping the others prepare and check on the island’s storm defenses that he hadn't gone to look for Nagito. He’d decided to head to bed early, tired from the day of work and he figured Nagito would come back to go to bed sooner or later. 

Now, it was the middle of the night and the bed was still empty. Concern filled Hajime’s mind as he sat up, looking around the room for any sign of Nagito. He breathed a sigh of relief, his shoes were by the door and the bathroom light was on, shining brightly from under the gap in the door in the darkened room.

Hajime wanted to just roll over and head back to sleep, but something in his gut urged him to get up and check on Nagito. He lay down briefly, ignoring his gut feeling in favour of getting a few more hours of sleep before the sun came up but the growing feeling that something was wrong grew large enough to consume his entire stomach. 

He got up slowly, the paranoia growing more and more urgent as he approached the bathroom door. When he was standing directly outside of it, he heard a weird, laboured sounding breathing coming from inside. 

He knocked quietly, “hey, Nagito, you okay in there?”

The breathing continued, but no reply.

“Nagito?”

“Hajime?” Nagito’s voice came deeper and raspier than usual.

“Are you okay? Are you feeling sick?”

There was another pause. Hajime felt his worry deepen into a gaping chasm in his stomach, “I’m a little worried about you, please answer me.”

Nagito seemed to take a while to reply again, “I’m okay, Hajime.” His voice seemed tired, the tone not exactly matching the urgency Hajime had shown. Something felt off, really off.

“Nagito, if something's wrong I need to know, please tell me what’s going on.”

“Just go back to bed, Haji, I’m okay.”

Haji? 

Nagito had never called him ‘Haji’ before. Something really wasn't right.

“Nagito, seriously, what’s going on? Please tell me!”

He couldn't escape his quickening pulse, the sweat beading on his forehead, the nausea in his gut, the smell of blood in his nose.

Hajime tried the handle, not wanting to intrude on his friend’s privacy but there was absolutely no way he wasn't going to check on him with his own two eyes. What if he’d passed out and was delirious, or was feeling lightheaded and needed help, or could it be he was- 

Hajime shook off that last one, not allowing his mind to go somewhere that dark.

The door was locked, and it remained locked no matter how much he pulled it frantically. “Nagito, please, I know something’s wrong!”

“Hajime.”

He looked up, his eyes meeting the white wood of the door. 

“There really isn't any need to worry about a silly old thing like me, you know,” his voice was hollow save for a slight trace of saddened amusement. 

“What do you mean, Nagito? You’re my friend, I thought I’d made it pretty clear,” Hajime’s head spun with worry. What was Nagito doing? “Please, will you unlock the door?”

“Sorry, Hajime. I think it's best for both of us if it stays locked. I don't want you to stop me, after all.”

What? Stop him?

“Stop you? Nagito, what are you doing? Please, please let me in! Don't do whatever you’re thinking of,” Hajime couldn't believe the thoughts rushing through his head. There’s no way Nagito was talking about what he was thinking. His head spun with an overwhelming dizziness.

“I wanted to thank you, Hajime. I wanted to say thank you for letting me feel loved. I never thought I’d get to experience that, but you really were kind to me. To allow someone like me to experience even a fraction of your hope; you truly are generous.” 

No. 

Tears brimmed in his eyes, a sharp and oppressive pain overwhelming his chest and making his body almost too heavy to hold up. 

He pounded on the door, banging heavily with his fists on the sturdy wood, hoping and praying to god Nagito would stop whatever he had in mind and just come out already.

“Nagito, please, don't,” he was full on crying now, the pain obvious in his voice as he screamed for his friend, “don’t do this to me.”

There was a pause, at first Hajime expected it to be brief although it stretched into a long silence on Nagito’s part, with Hajime yelling and banging on the door the whole time as he begged desperately for a reply.

“Nagito? Nagito, answer me, please, Nagito, it’ll be okay just please listen to me!” He heaved out a sob, “please, don't do this, don't do this to me, I love you,” he broke down as his knees began to give.

There was another pause as Hajime sobbed on his knees.

“I love you too,” Nagito’s voice was quiet and empty, though the words sounded like the most genuine thing he’d ever told him.

Hajime’s breathing was out of control, “Let me in, Nagito!”

“No, Hajime. I’m fine, so please don't worry.”

“Why should I believe that? You always say you're fucking fine, you're not! You're not okay, Nagito, I can’t let you do whatever you're planning to do! Please, let me in!”

Nagito laughed, and Hajime felt more frustrated and scared than he’d ever been in his life. “It’ll all be okay soon.”

Nagito’s voice tampered off at the end, and Hajime felt a newfound rush of adrenaline coursing through him. He got to his feet and pounded on the door again, stronger than before with actual intent to break it. He rammed into the door with all of the force he could manage with his upper arm.

“Hajime, just quit it, I’ll be fine,” he heard Nagito say. He disregarded it entirely, continuing to batter the door unrelentingly as he heard it splinter under his force. 

“Stop it, Hajime!” 

Hajime chose to say nothing, focusing all of his energy into breaking the door down.

With a few more heavy thrusts, he felt the door splinter and break entirely with a loud ‘crack, bang’ as the pieces collapsed into the bathroom. 

He flew forward, catching himself in time to meet the eyes of a terrified looking Nagito, sat with his knees to his chest in the bathtub clutching something in his hands. His mouth was agape, pure shock and shame in his eyes as Hajime wiped his face with his shirt sleeve. 

Hajime was relieved to see Nagito was fine, at least physically. His coat was in a heap on the floor in front of the bath, leaving him sitting in chest high water in his jeans and t-shirt.

Hajime strode over to him, knees giving way as he knelt by the tub, pulling the half-soaked Nagito into a hug. Nagito’s face still remained completely bewildered as he was hugged, the box in hand pressing between their chests. Hajime sobbed loudly into Nagito’s shoulder, gripping him so tight his bones might shatter like glass.

“Don’t you ever, ever fucking do that to me again,” Hajime said between tears, gasping for air with his face buried into Nagito’s collarbone.

All Nagito could do was sit there and shake, both from the freezing cold water and the events taking place.

“I, I, Hajime, I,” he couldn't speak.

Hajime pulled him away to look him in the eyes, holding him tightly by the shoulders, “you scared the ever living shit out of me.”

Hajime sounded more serious than he ever had before, voice trembling in shock as tears cascaded freely down his face.

Nagito averted his gaze downward. 

“I’m sorry.”

“Don't. Don't apologise. I’m just so glad you're okay.” 

It was then that Hajime glanced down at what Nagito was holding. It was his small, plain yellow box of razor blades he kept in the bathroom cabinet.

He sighed, all of his emotions flooding out of him with it leaving him nothing short of completely emotionally drained. 

Nagito looked ashamed, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I,” he stuttered as Hajime hugged him again, still urgent but slightly gentler this time. 

“It's okay. I love you, Nagito. Please, I want you to know that.”

Nagito let his head rest properly into the crook of Hajime’s shoulder, “I love you, Hajime,” he sounded like he was going to cry, “I love you so much it hurts.”

Hajime sat on his knees in the water that’d spilled out of the tub, lifting his forehead to bump against Nagito’s, “I never want you to think that you’re a waste of my time, or that you're not worthy or that you’re unlovable. None of that is true- it’s never been true. I love you, Nagito.”

Nagito clenched his teeth, his brain both going haywire and shutting down simultaneously. 

“I never want you to talk about yourself like that ever again, or think like that ever again. It breaks my heart, Nagito. It breaks my fucking heart that you think that.”

Nagito sniffed, fresh tears falling from his reddened eyes.   
He nestled his head against Hajime’s neck again, not having a single response to offer. 

They stayed like that for a considerable amount of time, holding each other and sobbing with nothing left to say to one another. By the time Hajime helped Nagito up on shaky knees, the sun had begun to peep over the horizon. It filled the bedroom with a premature glow that contrasted greatly with the fluorescent light of the bathroom.

The two didn't exchange words for a quite a while longer, Hajime helping Nagito out by giving him some dry clothes and a towel, sitting on the bed with nothing but his thoughts.

He was certain that he wouldn't be letting Nagito out of his sight for a long time.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hajime gets to be the one relying on someone else for once

Time seemed to pass differently that morning as Hajime sat with a deep ache in his muscles, holding Nagito in his arms on the unmade bed. Nagito sniffed periodically, the only sound to perforate the thick silence. 

He felt completely detached, like everything he was seeing and everything going on was 1000 miles away, with him watching on as if outside of his body. He couldn't comprehend the events of last night, let alone believe they were real. It just didn't feel possible. 

He grinded his teeth, the distant warm fragility of Nagito’s body too far away to properly ground him from his wandering thoughts. 

Nagito didn't say anything. There was too much to say and yet none of it would fit. Hajime was content to stay silent, until Nagito shifted and attempted to stand. Hajime saw the distant, empty expression etched into his face, a look of utter exhaustion and apathy.

“Where are you going?” Hajime’s voice came quieter than he’d expected, though it didn't feel as if it belonged to him in the first place.

“I have to go to the bathroom.”

Hajime sat up, “wait,” he said, his tone panicked. He didn't want Nagito going and being on his own in the bathroom again, but he couldn't exactly ask to go with him. 

“Just wait,” he got up and ran to the bathroom, searching inside the small room for anything sharp or remotely dangerous. Nagito appeared in the doorway, looking smaller than he ever had and completely ashamed. The expression looked like that of a scolded child, Hajime knew exactly what he was thinking.

Nagito exhaled, less like a sigh and more like an involuntary evacuation of his lungs as if something heavy was dropped on his chest, “Hajime, I’m,” he lost his breath.

Hajime turned to look at him, immediately placing whatever he had in his hand in the sink and holding Nagito’s arms gently at both sides, “it’s okay.”

Nagito began to hyperventilate and cry, seemingly involuntarily, “I’m sor- I’m so sorry.”

Hajime sighed, “can I hug you?”

Nagito nodded, allowing himself to be hugged with his arms rising to limply clutch around Hajime’s back.

“You don't need to apologise for anything.”

Nagito’s breathing didn't steady, “but- but you- I caused so much trouble, because of me-”

“You didn't.”

There was a long pause as Hajime attempted to help Nagito settle his breathing.

Nagito sunk further into Hajime’s embrace, head leaning on his shoulder, “why d-did you say what you said?”

“What do you mean?”

Nagito sniffed, waiting a moment before clarifying, “you-you said ‘I love you’.”

Hajime took Nagito’s hands in his, pulling out of the embrace to look Nagito in the face, “because I do. I don't want to lose anyone else, Nagito, especially not you,” Hajime’s eyes welled up with tears. 

Nagito hung his head, “but why?”

“What do you mean why?”

“Why would you say that..?”

Hajime looked slightly offended, before switching to a softer, sadder expression.

“There's no way you really could,” Nagito continued.

Hajime shook his head, “why would I lie, Nagito?”

Nagito sighed, “I don't know. It just hurts, Hajime.”

“Why? What hurts?”

Nagito struggled, “It hurts because people like you aren't supposed to love people like me.”

Hajime looked like he’d had his heart physically pulled on, “no Nagito, I told you to stop talking like that!”

Nagito began to tear up again, letting the tears fall freely. “but it’s true,” he looked genuinely lost and exhausted trying to understand.

“It’s not! For fuck’s sake, please just let yourself be happy!”

Nagito shook his head, avoiding Hajime’s gaze like it’d burn him, “I don't deserve to be happy, Hajme.”

Hajime attempted to cool his frustration and allowed it to melt into sadness at what he was hearing, “Nagito, please.”

There was a pause, until Nagito sighed.

“You’d be better off letting me die, Hajime.”

Hajime felt the frustration bubble up in his chest. He wasn't angry with Nagito, but with the world for allowing him to suffer like this; at whatever caused him to think this way about himself.

“What the fuck do you take me for? Do you honestly think i'm the type to just leave someone behind at a time like this? Seriously, just listen to yourself! Why would I spend so much time helping you and caring for you if I’m just going to let you push me away in the end?” 

Hajime took Nagito’s hands tighter, “listen, I don't want to hear another thing like that out of you, you got it?”

Nagito stayed silent.

“I'm serious, Nagito, I don't wanna hear another second of this self deprecating shit out of you.”

Hajime sighed, realising he may have come off as too harsh, “I’m sorry, I didn't mean to be so harsh but it's the only way I’m gonna get through to you. I seriously mean it,” he squeezed Nagito’s hands, “please believe me when I say I love you, and you deserve to be loved. I don't know why you seem to think otherwise, but it’s not true. I’m staying with you whether you like it or not.”

Nagito stayed silent, still, a single tear rolling down his face as he nodded.

Hajime released his hands slowly, letting them drop to his sides. He gathered up the objects he’d dropped in the sink and moved to the side, allowing Nagito to enter the bathroom. 

“Okay, I’m locking these away somewhere.” 

He watched as Nagito nodded again before closing what was left of the door, just the bottom half that cut off into jagged panels of wood where it had splintered and cracked apart. Hajime stepped outside of the cottage to allow him some privacy.

As he waited patiently for Nagito he couldn't help the wave of anxiety that flooded his chest, leaving him feeling neck deep and stranded.

He needed help, Nagito wasn’t the only one suffering. He felt selfish for thinking about himself at a time like this, but there was no way he could be of any use to Nagito if he was drowning himself. 

He’d have to talk to someone- someone trustworthy. Maybe Imposter, or Fuyuhiko or Sonia. He didn't want to bring it up in front of Nagito, but also didn't want to leave Nagito alone for a second. 

He decided to make a break for it, it’s not like Nagito could do anything since he’d taken all of the dangerous objects with him, mostly razorblades, which were slipped safely into his jeans pocket. He strode over to Imposter’s cabin, glancing over his shoulder in paranoia as if he’d be able to check to see if Nagito was okay just by doing so.

He knocked urgently, bouncing ever so slightly on his left foot until he heard the door unlatch and open. Imposter stood, wrapped in a robe with their hair in a towel. 

“Oh, Hajime, can I help you?”

“I need to talk to you,” Hajime’s voice held a slight tremor.

“What is it?”

“I-it’s pretty serious, it’s about Nagito.”

“Goodness, is he alright?”

“Yeah, well he is now, well I don't know actually,” Hajime realised in that moment that he had no idea how to break the news, or even if he should in the first place.

Would it be unfair on Nagito to go around telling people something so sensitive straight after it happened? Would it be unfair on Imposter to tell them something so heavy out of nowhere? He stammered over his words, at a loss for what to do all of a sudden.

“It’s okay. Gosh, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so panicked before,” Imposter had a look of genuine concern on their face, “I’d like to be able to help, whatever it is.”

Hajime faltered, “thank you,” I’m fine, I just-” Hajime began to break down a little, his words giving way like a collapsing ceiling before caving in and breaking into shallow sobs.

Imposter moved aside to allow Hajime in, placing a warm hand on his shoulder to guide him to the bed. He sat down, taking a few breaths between tears, “I’m sorry, I don't know what’s wrong with me.”

“It’s okay to cry. Take all the time you need,” Imposter gave a reassuring smile that melted together with the concern. They dried their hair and placed the towel aside as Hajime spoke.

“I don't know where to start but, Nagito-” he found he couldn't finish what he was going to say, “he, tried to-”

“Tried to?”

Hajime sucked in a sob, “He tried to, to die,” he could barely squeeze it out before breaking into more pained, breathy sobs.

Imposter stood, in total shock and awe as the revelation sunk in. It seemed to weigh their face down into a painful frown before they moved to sit beside Hajime. 

They put their arm around Hajime gently, allowing him to rest back and lean on them. 

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Is there anything I can do?”

Hajime tried to fight through his increasingly rapid breathing, “I just- d-don’t know what to do,” he sniffed and exhaled loudly, “I don't know what to do to help him when I’m like this. I was so fucking scared-”

Imposter leaned over to grab a tissue from the box on their nightstand, giving it to Hajime. He took it gratefully and leaned forward on his arms to bury his face in it.

“It’s okay. You're not alone, you never were. We’re here to help, both you and Nagito. I’m so sorry that you were shouldering so much all on your own.”

They took a moment to allow Hajime to collect himself. 

“He’s in the ba-bathroom,” Hajime sat up, “he might be out by now, I don’t want him to do anything like that again-”

“It’s okay. Do you want to go and check on him?”

Hajime sniffed into the tissue again before balling it up and tossing it into the trash can, “I think I’d better.”

“Do you want me to come with you?”

Hajime paused for a moment, sniffing deeply and trying to calm himself, “would you mind?”

“Of course not,” Imposter smiled sadly.

Hajime nodded, “thank you so much.”

“Don’t worry. You can always ask me for help you know. I’m sorry something so unfortunate happened while the rest of us were not around to help.”

Hajime looked at them closely for the first time and saw that they were shaking ever so slightly.

“I’ll just be a moment, I need to get dressed but you're welcome to go ahead without me. I’ll be over to you in a second.”

Hajime nodded appreciatively, “okay,” he said quietly before turning to head back to his cabin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanx 4 readin


	17. Chapter 17

Nagito stared at his hands in silence, nothing but the sound of the ticking clock on the wall to accompany the crescendo of deafening thoughts in his head. He wanted to rest. He just wanted to stop thinking, if only for a few minutes. It was driving him insane and every second he was alone with it the harder it became to suffer through. 

His plan to make all of it go away had backfired, massively at that. Now things were worse than before and he feared he’d done irreparable damage to his and Hajime’s relationship. That could be it, the final nail in the coffin that was enough to convince Hajime to leave him. After all, he’d done nothing but be selfish and think about himself. 

He’d never been much of a drinker but at that moment he yearned greatly for anything that would numb his senses even a little. 

He wasn’t sure how long had passed before the door creaked open, Hajime greeting him with pink eyes and a forced smile. He sniffed and moved to sit cautiously down next to where Nagito was perched on the edge of the bed. “Hey.”

“Hey.”

Neither of them had the right thing to say. 

Nagito sighed.

“I’m sorry, Hajime.”

Hajime shook his head, “stop that.”

Nagito fell silent again. 

Imposter knocked briefly, peeking through the gap in the door before letting themself in. Nagito saw them and attempted to stand, feeling his legs tremble immensely as they felt like they were made of wood. 

“Is everything okay?” they asked as Hajime stood, putting a hand on his shoulder. 

Nagito nodded, “of course, everything’s fine.” 

Imposter saw the wreckage that was the bathroom door and paled again, lowering their head. Nagito felt overwhelmed. 

“Would you like some help cleaning up in here?” They asked, however their voice sounded distant and almost incomprehensible. It felt like everything was growing distant and was slowly fading away, fraying at the edges of his vision and turning black. 

He felt Hajime squeeze his shoulder, “Nagito?”

He couldn’t reply, he felt too dizzy and weak.

“Are you okay?”

Everything went black. 

He was laying on the floor, what felt like concrete beneath him due to how uncomfortable it felt under his skull. The sky above him looked just about how expected hell to look, deep crimson with dense, black clouds that made the sky look as if it was tearing itself apart. The sun was nowhere to be seen, neither was the moon or any stars, nothing but the horrific jet black clouds and the tops of surrounding skyscrapers. 

He pushed himself up, his entire body trembling weakly with an unshakable fever. Sweat seeped into every piece of clothing he wore, leaving him uncomfortable and feeling even more sick. A glove covered his left hand, and for a moment it felt as if his arm had simply fallen asleep and he was unable to move it due to a lack of blood flow. After a while, he accepted that he wasn’t able to shake it awake, remembering the horrifying reality of what he’d done all at once. 

He grinned, it was too horrible to bear. He wanted to scream, cry, tear the limb off of his body, anything to rid himself of her. He simultaneously couldn’t prevent the widening grin on his face at the incredible despair that was ripping him to shreds from the inside. It was disgustingly magnificent, the painful itch where his arm met her hand throbbing with his rapid heartbeat as he revelled in the horror. He had to see it.

With a feverish shudder, he removed the glove cautiously. 

The smell before was disgusting, it always was. Everything and everyone smelled bad these days, no one was around to clean anything and barely anyone cleaned themselves. He knew he stunk, the others didn’t even bother keeping it a secret but the smell that hit him when he removed the glove was a whole new level of putrid. It turned his stomach, it was worse than anything he’d ever smelled in his life; the flesh on her left arm had rotted away, some of the skin was taken with the glove as he removed it. It made his eyes water, the stink of decay was so dizzyingly sweet that it felt as though it was poisoning him. 

His hand shook as he clumsily pulled his jacket sleeve up, the leather slipping from his sweaty hand several times before he managed to yank it up properly. He got a good look at where the limb was attached, the suturing was most definitely his own shitty handiwork, judging by how lopsided it was. Some of the stitches were coming loose as both his and her flesh had gaped and turned purple, oozing yellow and green all over the sleeve of his jacket and the inside of the glove. The itching was unbearable, as if it was coming from inside the arm itself; it felt as if the core of his being was being subjected to the torturous sensation. Not to mention the pain, the dull, throbbing agony that moved in painful jolts up to his shoulder. 

He couldn’t take it, he cackled dryly as he began to scratch at the flesh of his own arm, it did nothing to quell the unbearable itching and only brought more blinding pain that dulled his senses. He reached the stitches, the flesh coming back under his nails every time he attempted to put an end to the burning sensation welling up in the limb. He wheezed, his eyes burning hot in their sockets as tears spilled over. He was unable to control himself.

In the midst of everything, he suddenly awoke in a cold room. It was disorientating, being transported from the muggy, suffocating heat of Towa City to the air conditioned room he found himself in now but he was grateful to be rid of the nightmare. His bones ached and his whole body felt as if it was made of concrete. 

His vision spun and twisted as he tried to make sense of where he was. Everything around him felt impossibly far away, the room felt as if it was shifting and morphing in the corners of his eyes. He turned his head, feeling that he was resting in a bed. He saw the white bars at his side and the tiled floor of the room and came to the conclusion that he was in the hospital. 

“He’s awake,” he heard someone say. He shifted his eyes to look around, squinting at the unforgiving beams of the fluorescent lights. He saw Hajime and Imposter to his left, Hajime looking pale with worry and what sounded like Mikan to his right. 

“Is he alright?” he heard Imposter’s voice now. 

“Nagito, are you alright?” He felt Hajime take his hand, “do you need a drink?” 

Nagito couldn’t form a response, he felt as if his skull was made of polystyrene, “uh.”

He shut his eyes again, it felt hard to keep them open as the fatigue pinned his body down. 

“He might be delirious after fainting,” Mikan said faintly, “it might take him a moment to feel okay.”

Hajime nodded, holding his hand while he attempted to sit up, “I’m okay, “he rasped.

“Nagito, are you alright?”

Nagito nodded, blinking his eyes and focusing on nothing in particular. It felt as if nothing really mattered to him in that moment and so he took a while to respond. “I’m fine, did I pass out on you?”

Hajime nodded with a concerned look, “when was the last time you ate something?”

Nagito racked his brain, “I dunno.”

Hajime sighed. 

“I’ll go and get you something from the cafeteria, it’s imperative you eat at least something,” Imposter said, turning to leave.

Nagito really didn’t want to eat but didn’t have the fight in him to protest. 

“I’m sorry, I should’ve noticed that you weren’t eating,” Hajime sighed after Imposter left. Nagito felt the weight of his guilt on his shoulders. He really had made Hajime feel responsible for him.

Mikan had moved to stand beside Hajime, “I know you probably wo-won’t feel like eating anything at the moment but it’s important, very important. Do you think that’s okay?”

Nagito nodded, not wanting to make a fuss. Hajime squeezed his hand affectionately.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> rlly short and not spell checked chapter

“You were out for a pretty long time, we let you rest in your bed for a while but decided after you didn’t wake up that it might be better idea to bring you here where we can look after you,” Hajime said, now taking a seat in the plastic foldable chair next to Nagito’s bed. 

“Imposter had to carry you, of course, but I think you’re better off here.”

Hajime’s smile looked hopeful, though there was something in his eyes that looked damaged, ever so slightly wilted perhaps. Nagito brought his legs up, slipping his hand out of Hajime’s to hug his knees to his chest. 

“I’m sick of this.”

Hajime sighed, sympathetically, “I know.”

“I’m sick of playing invalid. I just wanna do things for myself without worrying people.”

“Nagito, it’s okay to let people worry about y-”

“No it’s not, Hajime. I don’t deserve to pull you around like this, not after everything I did,” Nagito couldn’t even look at Hajime.

“Nagito, you were different then. It’s okay, we forgive you.”

“How? How can you forgive me after I treated everyone so badly, after I acted the way I did,” in the middle of his rant, Imposter had walked in with a tray of cafeteria food. “I got people killed, Hajime, and now I’m supposed to sit here and allow the very people I hurt to pick up the pieces of my life? It’s pathetic and it’s wrong. This is all wrong,” Nagito buried his face in his knees. 

Imposter placed the tray down on the table next to the bed, “Nagito, stop this,” they said softly.

Nagito looked up, “It isn’t right, the ultimates- no, you all,” he pulled at his hair, “I can’t be forgiven. Don’t you remember what I did? I got you killed,” Nagito looked straight at Imposter, tears welling in his eyes, “I tried to kill everyone. I made everyone scared, I made everyone think they were going to die.” 

Hajime repressed a sigh, “you did. I can’t argue that. We all did bad things in that simulation, Nagito, and every single one of us has done something we want more than anything to take back,” Hajime looked grim and gestured to the faint scar that ran horizontally across his forehead. 

“You aren’t the only one that has killed, either. Everyone acted in ways they normally wouldn’t because of that game, because of her,” Imposter said, putting a particular amount of disgusted emphasis on the ‘her’. 

Nagito shook his head, unable to choke back tears at this point, “no one else acted as inexcusably as me, I can’t blame it on anyone but myself” he hiccuped, “I don’t think I can make something like this right.”

Hajime pressed his lips, “Do you know how you can make it right, Nagito?”

Nagito didn’t reply, instead focusing too hard on keeping his sobs inside. 

“You have to keep going, and growing and getting better, okay? It’s not worth anything to anyone if you give up. You’ve seen how much we all care about you, haven’t you?”

Nagito locked his stare onto his knees, remaining wordless. 

“Please, do it for us. I know it’s not easy, and I know damn well what it’s like to feel like a monster, so please promise me you’ll listen to me?”

Imposter added on to what Hajime was saying, “Hajime is right, we want nothing more than to just get through this. We can’t do that if you’re too busy feeling guilty about the past,” they offered a warm smile. It made Nagito feel only a fraction better than he was, but better nonetheless. 

He nodded, “yeah. I’ll try. I owe it to everyone, I guess.”


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ahhhhhh hi guys thanks for reading my boring ass writing time and time again haha

Nagito stared at the food that was placed on the blankets in front of him. Their hospital didn't have any reason to stock food, meaning the small lunch before him was compiled of anything Imposter could get from the cafeteria’s vending machine; a single packaged ham sandwich, a cereal bar and some bottled water. He sat cross-legged in his bed, feeling pins and needles build up in his left leg as he sat most of his weight on top of it. 

The rain had began to hammer down again outside, the period of dryness that morning proving to be rather short lived as it raged angrily against the distant palm trees, blowing away anything not firmly secured to the ground. 

Hajime stood at his side, “well, are you gonna eat?” 

He really didn't want to. He knew as he sat under Hajime's firm gaze that skipping out again wasn't going to be an option.

Nagito moved sluggishly to peel the corner of the cereal bar’s packaging, more to appease Hajime for the time being than to fulfill any sort of non-existent hunger. 

“I didn’t realise there were stocked vending machines in this hospital," Nagito said, filling the dead air as he took his time with the packaging.

Hajime made a ,”mm,” sound as he watched every one of his movements. 

“Pretty good of whoever it was that stocked it, barely anyone uses this hospital- well, not until recently,” Nagito peeled back the corner, eyeing the bland bar of nuts and cereals held together by what might as well be concrete, he thought as he tried to snap off a small corner. He couldn’t bear to stick the whole thing in his mouth just yet- eating small parts would be more manageable for now. 

“Do you need help?” Hajime raised an eyebrow, seeing Nagito losing a battle to a breakfast bar must’ve been pathetic. As he said it, the corner gave and snapped off into Nagito’s hand. He laughed and closed his eyes, crumbs falling freely into bed beside him. 

“These things sure are tough,” Nagito mused, pretending to look at it closer.

Hajime made another, “mm,” sound, continuing to watch Nagito in a way that he didn’t seem to acknowledge or care was slightly unnerving. 

“Do you want any?” 

Hajime shook his head and Nagito turned to offer Imposter some.

“You’re stalling, Nagito.”

Nagito laughed, “am I?” His voice carried a nervously playful tone. 

“It’s okay to take as long as you need, but eating something small won't hurt,” Imposter’s smile was warm and encouraging.

Nagito bit back his desire to postpone the small meal even further before realising what a pain it’d be for the other two, seeing as they clearly weren’t going to give up until he ate. He held his breath and swallowed down the first bite as quickly as possible, fighting the urge to allow the nausea to force him to spit it back out. He grimaced at the stale flavour and overwhelming texture, tough and bitty and obviously two months out of date. 

Hajime seemed a little content, relaxing his shoulders and leaning on the wall, “I meant to tell you something the other day, by the way. You remember, the day the storm started?”

Nagito looked up, fighting through the second hastily broken-off portion of cereal bar. 

“I got in contact with Makoto over the phone and let him know about everything,” Nagito’s shoulders stiffened at the mention of his name. It was glaringly obvious how much he idolised him and the thought of another one of his heroes pitying him in such a way made it almost impossible to keep the stale granola in his mouth. He swallowed it all thickly, he imagined this was what it’d be like to eat bird seed directly off of a feeder.

“I needed to contact him in order to secure an order anyway, our medical supplies aren’t as good as the ones they have over on the mainland, and they have a lot more staff over there too. If you’re going to be starting chemotherapy, we need the supplies to be able to do that.”

Imposter shifted their weight from one leg to the other, “so you’ve ordered the medicine from them?”

Hajime nodded, “he gave me the number of one of the Future Foundation’s doctors so that I could talk it over with them and make sure we can get our hands on what it is that Nagito needs.”

Hajime smiled, “he said he wants to see you, too.”

Nagito perked up, “Makoto?”

Hajime nodded, “He said he’ll take a boat over to the island as soon as the storms clear up, he wants to talk with you.”

Nagito felt the tops of his ears burn, “he really wants to talk to someone like-” he paused, meeting Hajime’s gaze, “he wants to talk to me.”

Hajime had a small smile on his face. Imposter had their back to the both of them, looking out of the window at the horror that was the weather outside.  
“It looks as if we’ll have to stay here until the storm dies down.”

Hajime nodded and Nagito’s looked at him owlishly.

“Is Mikan still here?”

“She was in here with us earlier, wasn’t she,” Hajime looked around.

It looked as if a thought dawned on Imposter’s face, “She told me she was leaving to get something from the supermarket, I saw her when I went to the vending machine,” Imposter looked pale, “that was only around ten minutes ago, she’s probably stuck out there!”

Hajime pushed himself up off of the wall, “oh, shit!” he cursed.

“We need to go out and find her,” Imposter made their way towards the exit.

“Wait,” Hajime said, looking from Nagito to Imposter and back again.

“I’ll go, it’ll be easier for me with Izuru.”

Imposter looked uneasy, “If you’re sure.” they didn’t look as if they were worried for Hajime, it was more as if they would feel more content if they could help.

“You and Nagito should stay behind here, it shouldn’t take too long.”

Nagito got up out of his bed clumsily, following after Hajime and Imposter as they left the room in a hurry.

The three of them made their way to the lobby, Hajime had found a battered old coat in one of the closets and wrapped it tightly around himself with the hood obscuring the top of his head. 

“Be careful, alright?” Imposter said as Hajime opened the door and braced himself against the gust of wind that was let in.

“Make sure you make it back here,” Nagito felt unease stir in his stomach as he watched Hajime leave with nothing more than a waving hand gesture.

The two of them decided to wait in the lobby, it was well lit, had seating areas and most importantly big windows to look out of to watch for any sign of Hajime and Mikan. Imposter folded their arms and stood next to one of the windows, scanning the horizon thoroughly over and over again. It seemed as if they couldn’t bring themself to sit down and leave it to Hajime and Nagito would’ve usually scoffed at their lack of trust in Hajime’s talents if he wasn’t doing the same. 

He knew it’d be fine, he knew Hajime would find Mikan and be back in no time, the two of them safe and sound. He knew Hajime was reliable like that. 

Still, he couldn’t help the bad thoughts from setting in. What if something bad happened to Hajime because of his luck? He attempted to shrug it off. Surely after all this time now wouldn't be the time for something to go wrong, right? Or was that what he was supposed tot think, allowing himself to fall into yet another false sense of security only to have harsh reality dropped on him yet again.

The feeling of paranoia surged, he was no stranger to horrible things happening because of his damn luck and it was right about time the universe payed him back for allowing him to feel so close to Hajime for this long. 

He couldn’t even think straight, he clasped at his chest as all the air seemed to vacate his lungs in one go. He crumpled onto his knees, his body too weak to support him as the thought felt as if it was physically crushing him. 

All of the possibilities, all of the horrible, horrible possibilities flooded his mind and tormented him one by one as he stared at the tiled ground. It was as cold and hard as the inevitable truth that was numbing his senses, something bad was without a doubt going to happen because of him. He didn’t even fully register the large, warm hand on his back as he heaved in breaths, his vision darkening yet again. 

The realisation that he was about to pass out again only made him panic more, he didn’t want to go back to another nightmare, he didn’t want to have to relive something else from his past again, he didn’t want it, he didn’t want to-

Imposter called his name and it finally registered with him that they’d been saying his name over and over again. They were crouched next to him, one hand on his back and the other paused in mid air, looking as if they wanted to comfort him further but being unsure if it was okay to do so. 

“Nagito?”

He gasped erratically, finally able to accept at least some oxygen into his lungs. It didn’t feel as if it did much good, his head still felt light and his vision swayed dizzily as he attempted to pull his shirt collar away from his neck. 

“It’s okay, it’s okay, he’s going to be okay.”

“My luck, my luck, he’s-” Nagito couldn’t convey exactly what it was that was scaring him half to death. 

“Your luck?”

“My- Hajime,” he wanted to tell them, he couldn’t get it out.

“Your Hajime?”

He felt tears well up in his eyes. “My luck,” he inhaled sharply, “he’s going to die,” he managed to get out between staggered breaths. 

His thought process seemed to finally click with Imposter, “you’re worried about your luck affecting Hajime?”

Nagito shuddered with the breath that left him, “yes.”

“He’s going to be okay,” Imposter removed their hand from his back, “come, now.”

Nagito allowed them to rub his shoulder reassuringly.

“Don’t you worry about him, what would Hajime think if he knew you were here worrying about him?”

Nagito sniffed at the floor, attempting to control his out of control breathing.

“Let’s keep an eye out and see if we can see him, okay?”

Imposter shifted to sit by the double doors that had glass panels on all four quartered segments. They waited before gesturing for Nagito to come and sit adjacent to them, in front of the other door. He moved slowly and shakily to sit with his legs to his chest, hugging them close. Imposter extended their hands as if to offer them for Nagito to hold. 

“Here, if you’re okay with it, we can do some breathing. Would you like to?”

Nagito extended his shaking hands and rested them in Imposter’s, feeling the warmth against his right hand. 

“We’re going to breathe in for ten seconds, and then out for ten, is that okay?”

Nagito nodded, shoulders shaking and heaving with his irregular breathing still. 

“I’ll squeeze your hands when we inhale and stop when we exhale.”

Nagito felt their hand squeeze his gently as they inhaled calmly, attempting to follow their lead and smooth out his breathing. They loosened their grip after a while, and Nagito tried his best to fall into the pattern that Imposter was setting.

Soon, he felt his chest begin to calm down somewhat. He was slowly settling down, save for the shaking of his shoulders and wetness in his eyes. 

“If we sit here, we can watch out for them. Don’t worry about a thing, okay? You know Hajime. He’s very reliable,” Imposter was being nothing but reassuring as they removed their hands from Nagito’s. Nagito immediately brought his arms to curl around his knees again.

His left arm ached, right at the end where her hand used to be. It tended to feel crappy whenever the weather was bad, whether it was legitimate pain caused by the changing pressure in the air or if it was purely coincidental, but it never ceased to make the limb ache relentlessly. Not to mention how the cold would attach itself to the metal of his prosthetic and creep up and seep into the stump. 

It throbbed, aching its way up to his shoulder and holding his arm in an icy clutch. 

Imposter noticed that he was now clutching his arm to his chest, cradling it close to his middle. 

“Are you cold?”

Nagito shook his head, “it just hurts a tad, that’s all.”

“What does?” Imposter looked concerned.

“My arm,” Nagito did his best to look nonchalant, “it’s okay though, really. It happens all the time.”

“We are in a hospital, do you think it’d help to take some painkillers?”

Nagito shook his head, “it’s nothing I can’t handle,” he chuckled. 

There was a period of silence as they both looked out of the windows in the doors at the rain that now began to flood the ground ever so slightly. 

“To be honest, I’d rather just be rid of it.”

“Rid of your prosthetic?”

Nagito nodded, “when it gets cold, it’s more of an inconvenience than anything. It’s useful to be able to use it for everyday things, but-” he stopped himself before realising there wasn’t anything he wanted to say anyway.

“Would it help to remove it for a while?”

“I’ve considered it, but I’d feel pretty ungrateful. Kazuichi went through a lot of effort, after all.”

“I’m sure no one would mind if it’s a hindrance to you at the moment.”

Nagito looked at the metallic palm that was resting upwards, propped up by his other arm as he cradled it close to his body. 

“Maybe. Just for a while.”

In reality, it wasn’t that bad. He could deal with aches and pains pretty well, he thought. The thing that unsettled him was the familiarity of it, the feeling of a cold hand resting at his side, brushing against his skin while not being able to feel sensations through it. It was an unfortunate and unpleasant reminder of what it was like traipsing around with her hand attached for so long. 

It was a reminder of all the nights he had to sleep in bed with the rotting, diseased limb in the bed next to him, all the times he’d tied it up in plastic bags just to rid himself of the headache-inducing stench just for a second. Of course, he’d give in a while later and wouldn't be able to resist keeping the despair at bay. 

On top of that, he didn’t like how alien it felt sometimes. He hated the times when Hajime would brush up against him to hold his hand, only for him to not be able to feel it. He hated the times Hajime moved away reflexively when he’d touch him in the night, the cold metal a shock against his warm skin. 

He hated it, sometimes. 

Fidgeting with the sleeve keeping the limb in place, Nagito did his best to remove it slowly with only his right hand. He’d only ever removed it for short periods of time before, not wanting to seem ungrateful for the custom made limb an ultimate had made specially for him, meaning he had a bit of a hard time with it every time he did so. 

Soon, he managed to free himself from the prosthetic. He held it in his functioning hand, feeling for the first time in a while how it felt to only be able to use his right. It reminded him of when he first woke up from the simulation, having been dreadfully ill for weeks in the Future Foundation’s hospital fighting off an infection that ravaged his body due to her arm having gone septic. He was sickly, underweight, feverish, filthy and felt like he’d fought in a war. 

Hajime had been there too, he’d even helped him up out of his pod after he was first awakened. He’d see his mismatched eyes peering down at him as he attempted to keep his eyes open, feeling impossibly hot as hajime changed his IV and wiped his face with a cold towel. He’d slip back into long periods of sleep ravaged by nightmares of the past four years of his life only to be periodically awoken by the sight of a random nurse working at his side busily.

Eventually it was Mikan, working at his side. He assumed she had recovered and had immediately volunteered to begin working again to help people, filling him with so much hope for the ultimates. Sometimes it was Hajime, his manner of working more deliberate and heavy handed. It’d feel a sense of urgency when Hajime would come in, as if there was something he desperately wanted to say but couldn't gather his bearings enough to say it. 

He hated him. He hated him and everything he stood for. He knew deep down that reserve course students were worth less than mud at the bottom of a gutter, the lowest form of life only made lower by their desperate attempts to claw their way up to the level of the ultimates. He’d never forgive him.

Yet here he was, nursing him back to health with all the skill of an experienced medical practitioner. He didn’t understand how someone he loved and hated so much at the same time would put aside the resentment he’s shown him before to put in the effort to save his life now. He was hardly worth saving, so why would the reserve course student he’d mocked and sneered at and even attempted to kill try to save him? 

Was that his hope?

Nagito placed the limb down on the tiled floor beside him, sighing out a long breath. Imposter seemed to perk up a little, moving closer to the window ever so slightly. 

“Do you see that?” They questioned, moving a few strands of black hair out of their face. 

A sharp jolt of adrenaline kickstarted Nagito’s heart to begin racing. He moved his face towards the window, searching desperately for whatever Imposter had seen.

“What? Where?”

“There,” Imposter pointed to two dark figures carrying something large overhead. He squinted his eyes, just about making out the swiftly approaching figures amidst the downpour.

“Is that them?” he asked with a sense of urgency. 

As the figures got closer still, he could see that one figure was taller than the other and they were jogging, holding some kind of sheet above their heads to keep themselves dry. 

As they got closer still, he could see that it was Hajime and Mikan, the two of them holding Hajime’s coat above them as they sprinted towards the entrance of the hospital.

Imposter stood, and Nagito instinctively followed their lead. Imposter opened the door as they neared, allowing a powerful gust of wind to enter the hotel lobby, sending papers on the desk flying all over the place. 

The two of them made their way in as fast as they could, Imposter shutting the door behind them. They panted and shivered, red faced and sopping wet as they caught their breaths. 

“I’m so glad you’re both okay, we were worried sick,” Imposter glanced at Nagito as they spoke, taking the completely drenched windbreaker from Hajime and hanging it on the nearby coat hanger. 

“I was going to get s-some lunch for us at the supermarket, but then the storm rolled in a-and I lost my way,” Mikan ran her hands through her soaked, black hair as she made her way into the room, “th-thank god Hajime came out to rescue m-” she screamed abruptly when she tripped over something on the floor, landing on her side.

Imposter quickly moved to help her up, “are you alright?”

Hajime looked at what she had tripped over, “Nagito, you left your arm on the floor,” he said as he picked it up. 

Nagito took it from him when he offered it to him, “oops, sorry Mikan.”

Mikan dusted herself off, “a-ah, it’s my bad,” she chuckled. 

“Looks like we’re gonna be here until it clears up out there, it’s a good thing there’s showers here, though. I might go ahead and warm up.”

Imposter nodded, “it would be bad if either of you caught a cold.”

Hajime’s shirt was completely transparent due to the wetness, his hair almost black as it stuck to his face from how saturated it was with rain water. He visibly shivered, holding his arms away from his body. Mikan was the same, her bangs plastered to her forehead and her long shirt draping from her limbs. 

“Come to think of it, I wouldn’t mind a nice warm shower, either,” Imposter looked as if they were ready to let go of a lot of built up tension. 

“There are a couple of private bathrooms on each floor, I think,” Hajime turned to head towards the corridor with the other two, before realising that Nagito was standing by the door still, clutching his arm. 

“Why don’t you come too, Nagito?” 

Nagito chuckled quietly, “what, do I smell bad?” 

Hajime laughed as the other two went ahead without them, “only a little.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the long anticipated shower scene 2 coming to u next chapter


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> short-ish chapter this time lads that also isnt proofread

Hajime led the way to the small private bathroom on the first floor, the only thing causing it to stand out compared to the other doors being the simplistic bathroom sign on its front. He turned to smile at Nagito briefly before opening the door, their footsteps echoing within the teal walls.

The inside smelled faintly of mildew, leading Nagito to assume that the room hadn't been used for quite some time. Hajime wasted no time turning on the cheap showerhead that stuck out awkwardly from the wall as it collected rust.

The room soon filled with an unpleasant damp heat while steam rose from the water as it began running hot.

Hajime chuckled, “I like my showers scalding, hope you don't mind.”

Nagito smiled and shook his head, watching as Hajime began unbuttoning and peeling off his soaked-through shirt. He dropped it onto the tiled floor with a loud ‘plop’ before quickly cottoning on to the fact that he was being stared at.

As he looked up, Nagito looked away in a flustered hurry. He didn't mean to stare, especially when Hajime was undressing but every single one of his small mannerisms, no matter how seemingly insignificant they were, never failed to ensnare Nagito. They were all so uniquely Hajime, the way he shrugged off his shirt, the way he cocked his hip slightly as he removed his watch and the way he glanced up occasionally to smirk at Nagito as he did so.

“What?”

“What?” Nagito was a little embarrassed after having been caught.

Hajime chuckled sincerely, slowly making his way over to Nagito. Hajime felt very close, close enough to which Nagito swore he could feel his breath on his collarbones.

Hajime looked up at him, Nagito had grown a couple of inches over the years and left Hajime behind in the height department and he couldn't help but feel strange being physically above someone so important in a sense. 

“Your eyes are all red,” Hajime observed.

Nagito averted his gaze, “really?”

“Are you tired or did you miss me that much?”

Nagito laughed, afraid that it sounded a little too nervous, “I am pretty tired.”

Hajime left it there, he supposed he didn't want to tease Nagito for all the crying he’d been doing lately. It’s not as if he was the only one.

Hajime stepped back to remove his belt, pulling it out of the loops in his jeans and letting it clatter to the floor along with the puddle that was his shirt.

Nagito grabbed the hem of his shirt with his right hand, attempting to yank it up awkwardly before losing grip on it and allowing it to fall back down. He repeated this a couple of times, unable to lift the article past his shoulder; Hajime noticed his struggle and moved closer to him again, taking a hold of his shirt and pulling it the rest of the way off.

They looked at each other for a while, Nagito tilting his head away in a small act of embarrassment.

“Do you want some help with the rest?”

Nagito knew in his mind that getting his jeans off one handed while standing up was a task, but something compelled him to at least try before accepting Hajime’s offer. Perhaps a small fragment of shame over the idea of asking for help.

He managed to get his belt off no problem, but got stuck as he began tugging his jeans down.

“Here,” Hajime placed two warm hands on the top of his jeans, knuckles grazing his hip bones gently as he tugged his jeans down carefully. Nagito couldn't help but blush, feeling his chest grow tight at the sensation of having his hips touched.

He stepped out of his jeans once Hajime helped him out, feeling a hot tinge of embarrassment crawl on the nape of his neck.

Hajime discarded his own jeans and underwear before turning to get underneath the warm stream at last. He sighed as the pleasantly hot water ran through his hair and down his back, caressing his arm muscles and shoulder blades and slipping down his tan skin.

Nagito flushed as he undressed completely, walking quietly up behind Hajime to share the fairly narrow stream of water. Hajime moved out of the way, turning to face Nagito in order to allow the water to fall between them. 

Nagito stuck his head under the stream, enjoying the heat that rolled down his back. His hair flattened out considerably when it was wet, losing most of its volume and becoming thin and stringy as it hung over his shoulders. 

“Can I wash it?”

Nagito pushed his bangs out of his eyes to look at Hajime.

“Your hair,” Hajime looked a little flustered as he purposefully averted his gaze.

Nagito smiled, “of course.”

Hajime wasted no time opening the small amount of shampoo provided and lathering it evenly across Nagito’s hair. His hands were a little clumsy, but it felt nice all the same to have someone massage his scalp; it was especially nice considering it was Hajime. 

“It’s really soft, by the way,” Hajime coughed into his mouth, “I uh, I think it’s pretty.”

Nagito could practically sense the redness of Hajime’s face from behind him through the tone of his voice and the way his hands felt a little too tense in his hair.

As if Nagito could become any pinker, “thank you, Hajime,” he beamed, “it’s so kind of you to compliment trash like me.”

Hajime stopped, his hands going still momentarily after Nagito’s words. 

“You’re not trash, Nagito,” he sounded slightly defeated. Maybe defeated wasn't the right word, it was more like disappointment mixed with a hint of pity.

Nagito didn't reply.

Hajime pulled his hands away, sighing as he rinsed the bubbles off under the stream. 

Nagito wordlessly turned to face Hajime again, rinsing his hair off and running his hand through it.

“Please, believe me,” Hajime looked Nagito in the eyes.

Hajime took his hand gently.

“I think you're a wonderful person and you’re way too hard on yourself.”

Nagito stayed silent still. Hajime moved just a fraction closer.

“I, uh,” Hajime couldn’t help crack a smile at his own awkwardness, “I do love you Nagito. I have for a long time.” His words were a little rigid but sounded genuine nonetheless.

Nagito felt fireworks in his chest, the pure elation felt enough to make him want to crumple to the ground for the second, no, third time that day.

“Hajime,” Nagito couldn’t remove his eyes from Hajime’s face. 

He couldn't help but laugh, “you already probably know that I feel the same way.”

Hajime quirked an eyebrow, grinning, “yeah?”

“Well, I did make it pretty obvious after all.”

Hajime went from looking curious to a little confused, “what do you mean?”

Nagito couldn't hold back his smile, unsure if Hajime was being genuine or not, “don’t you remember? I told you that I loved your hope, all those years ago in the simulation.”

A lightbulb flickered before lighting up in Hajime’s head, “that was a love confession?”

Nagito chuckled, “you didn’t realise? Ah, I suppose I didn't make it very clear after all. Here I was thinking I got rejected.”

Hajime’s mouth hung agape, “wait, so all that time-”

“I love you, Hajime. I loved you, and I love you now. Although, the reasons for it are probably a lot different,” Nagito’s voice was quiet compared to the noise of the running water that beat down on the tiles below.

Hajime closed the small gap between them, still holding onto Nagito’s hand. He settled in front of Nagito’s bare chest before looking up at him, cupping his cheek with his free hand.

Nagito pushed his face gently against Hajime’s palm, enjoying the rough yet wet warmth of it. 

Hajime looked as if there was something he wanted to ask, as if a question was dancing on the tip of his tongue.

He drew in a breath before asking, “can I kiss you?”

Nagito felt as if he was going to pass out.

“Yes.”

Hajime grew ever closer, cupping his cheek still as his lips brushed against Nagito’s shyly.

Nagito couldn't deny that he had zero experience with this, and he was pretty sure his brain was short circuiting which left him frozen in place as Hajime kissed him softly. It was short and sweet, leaving him with butterflies in his stomach. Hajime’s lips felt simultaneously smoldering and soft as flower petals against his own, chapped, dry ones.

It was only a brief few seconds and yet it felt like a lifetime of warmth and love and peace condensed into a fleeting moment that burst brightly with colour behind Nagito’s eyelids. His heart worked overtime to pump blood as desperately as it could around his body in order to keep him upright.

He realised when Hajime pulled away that he could hear it in his ears, the deafening pulsing overriding any other sense of hearing he had in that moment. Hajime was slightly flushed across the bridge of his nose and cheekbones, and had a tender, loving look in his eyes.

“Why are you crying?” Hajime smiled, wiping away the tear with his thumb from Nagito’s cheek. 

He hadn't even noticed the tears running down his face until Hajime pointed it out.

“You’re gorgeous,” Hajime sighed. It seemed a little uncharacteristic for Hajime, Nagito thought, but he didn't care. He didn't want this to end. Without a second thought, he took Hajime’s face in his hand gently before connecting their lips again. 

Hajime brought his own hands to Nagito’s face, kissing him back with a tenderness Nagito had never once experienced in his entire life.

When Hajime pulled away, it felt all too soon. Nagito couldn't bring himself to open his eyes again, resting his forehead against Hajime’s.

They stood like that for a while, Nagito draping his hands over Hajime’s shoulders while he hugged his waist. They enjoyed the water and each other's touch, basking in the warmth and intimacy of the five minutes they had just to themselves. No nightmares, no flashbacks, no cancer, no having to worry about anything as long as it was just the two of them shut away from the world with nothing but each other and the cheap, rusty showerhead above them.

They stood there until an unexpected knock came at the bathroom door, breaking them out of their fantasy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh god someone pls be my friend im dyin


End file.
